Wayfarer
by C.J. O'Toole
Summary: Mass Effect novelization. Assigned to an experimental ship and trapped running diplomatic errands, Commander Shepard is one reprimand away from washing out. His career turned stagnant and his public acclaim long since waned, the commander had resigned himself to shaking hands across the colonies until a surprise attack thrusts him to the center of a galactic conspiracy.
1. Prologue

Mass Effect: Wayfarer

"Well, what about Shepard?" the Ambassador asked tentatively. "Earthborn, but no record of a family."

"Doesn't have one," the captain answered. "He was raised on the streets. From how he describes it, the placement homes didn't _'work out'_ for him."

"There's got to be a reason why they're paying such special attention to him." the Ambassador pondered. "His file isn't spectacular, to say the least. His disciplinary action record is three times the length of his commendation list."

"I think we know exactly why they're interested in _him_," the gruff-voiced Admiral chimed in, briefly glancing to the captain, "especially considering your mutual history."

"Don't we have any better options?" the Ambassador asked.

"Dozens," the captain answered. "We've sent them files on all of our best. This is the only one they sent back."

"And you think he's up to the task?"

"No, I don't."

Siberia. That's where they used to send people when they just needed them gone. Today, Siberia is significantly warmer, so busy-work diplomatic and exploratory postings were the next-best-place to send a marine who's more trouble than he's worth. That's where Commander Shepard had been for the last six months of his life—hopping world-to-world in an experimental vessel just as likely to explode as it was to get him anywhere. No action. No heroism. It had just been hand-shaking, flag-planting and cargo-running for six grueling months. He'd begun to wonder what he'd done to piss someone off this much.

_"Attention all passengers,"_ the intercom blared to life. "_If you look to our right you'll see a beautiful view of Jupiter, and if you look to our left you'll see a whole lot of nothing."_ Shepard joined as the rest of the crew rolled their eyes and shook their heads. _"ETA to the Sol relay: 10 minutes. Strap in and say a prayer, people."_

The commander approached the CIC casually—an arched array of glowing panels and readouts with a large holographic projection of the Milky Way at its center. He gave passing nods and nonchalant salutes to the crewmen as he made his way toward an open station beside the ship's balding, aged navigator.

"What'd I say, Pressly?" Shepard sneered as he tapped the holographic console open. "God damn Siberia."

Navigator Pressly chuckled to himself, maintaining a more dutiful focus on his work than the commander. "You never know," he smiled, "something interesting might happen down on Eden Prime."

"I know exactly what will happen," Shepard leaned against the readouts with his hands. "We'll end up at another backwater colony, give them a gift-basket and ask them to keep flying Alliance colors." He shook his head and watched as the rest of the crew busily prepared to hit the relay.

"I dunno'," Pressly said, looking up to the galaxy map. "Captain's been pretty tight-lipped about this one. And we've got a turian making the rounds."

"Probably another engineer making sure we don't blow up the ship." As if prophesized, the ship buckled briefly beneath Shepard's feet, sending both himself and Pressly reaching out for any hand-hold they could find. Once the vessel had quieted down, Shepard looked to his shrugging comrade with a brief quip before proceeding further toward the cockpit. "See what I mean?"

While the _SSV Normandy_ was a diplomatic olive-branch between Human Systems Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy in theory, the ship was a logistical boondoggle in reality. It was a frigate with what was close to a cruiser's drive core—a marvel of engineering, to be sure, in the same way that the Wright brothers' first flights were marvels of engineering. They still didn't stay in the air all that long. In truth, just about the only thing the _Normandy_ had going for her was her stealth drive, whose effectiveness remained wholly theoretical even at this point. Shepard wasn't entirely sure how you could have a stealth system in a vacuum but, then again, he never had the patience to listen when he asked.

Just about every other system on the ship had to be jerry-rigged to function with the drive core's disproportionately high power output. Momentary blackouts, random system restarts and a general unease were frequent enough to call into question whether a stealth drive was even worth her handicaps. Not to mention that the ship was damn-near always on the verge of melting down completely, generating far more energy than it needed when it wasn't running at top-speed. If the engineering deck got lazy for just a few minutes, the whole damn ship could go up in flames.

If the commander were a religious man, he'd have said a little prayer as he stepped into the ship's modestly-sized cockpit. As the bridge crew readied themselves and bantered rather animatedly, the turian stood in quiet attention at the rear, hands clasped behind his back. Like most turians, he was a tall and imposing figure, but strangely slim even inside his black and red hardsuit. Turian military culture dictated that a serving officer was armored and ready for battle at almost all times, and Nihlus kept the tradition. His naturally plated, spiked head was the only part of him not covered in hardened, ballistic polymer. Even so, Shepard had a hard time reading what he called his face. Two small, green eyes peered intensely out from between articulated plates, his mouth sheathed by a pair of sharp mandibles held tightly across his jaw.

Shepard's attention was drawn away from the turian as the ship started buckling again, much harder this time. "Alright, everyone" the pilot announced over the intercom, pulling what couldn't have been an Alliance regulation baseball cap low over his eyes. "If you haven't prayed by now, I hope you're at least buckled in."

The commander hated this part from day one, and he still hated it six months later. He could see the massive, spinning core of the Sol system's mass relay outside of the cockpit's thin viewports, pulsing brighter as they approached. When he'd made the mistake of asking, he was once told to think of the relays as giant slingshots. The description didn't comfort him. The _Normandy_ shook violently as the relay's field latched on to the ship. Lights flickered on and off all around them. Console readouts went haywire with an overabundance of data. The inertial dampeners made sure that the crew didn't end up as stains on the back of the ship but they weren't 100% effective—a fact that was absolutely clear as the entire crew held on for dear life as they were hurdled forward at speeds that would give Einstein an aneurysm. When his senses returned to him, Shepard surveyed the rest of the deck. Nobody else seemed to have the same trouble readjusting after a jump. Maybe it was just him, but there was something wrong about getting shot halfway across the galaxy like that. Nonetheless, they seemed to have made it through in one piece. There weren't even any fires this time.

The pilot's voice broke the silence on the deck. "Rudders, check. Inertial dampeners, check. Power in the green. Drift-" He paused briefly, thumbing across the holographic consoles that encircled his seat. "Just under 1,500K."

"Fifteen-hundred is good," Nihlus said, still staring at the stars through the forward viewport. "Your captain will be pleased." Without so much as a passing glance at the pilot, he turned away and slowly strode back toward the CIC.

The pilot brushed his cap and peered casually over his shoulder, watching the turian depart. "I hate that guy," he sneered under his breath when he was satisfied with the distance between them.

"Nihlus gave you a compliment, so you hate him?" the co-pilot spoke up from his perch across the cockpit.

"You remember to zip up your jumpsuit on your way out of the bathroom, that's _good_," the pilot remarked in a much louder, more boisterous tone. "I just hit a target the size of a pinhead from across the galaxy, so that's _incredible_, Kaidan." He didn't pay any mind to his co-pilot's shaking head and rolling eyes. "Besides, spectres are trouble. Call me paranoid." The commander stopped at the word—'spectre.' They were the stuff of legend, though less so on Earth. Humanity hadn't been around the block long enough to draw a spectre's full attention, which may have been a blessing.

"You're paranoid," Kaidan was happy to oblige. "The Council helped fund this project. They have a right to oversee their investment."

"Yeah, that is the _official_ story," the pilot muttered. "Only an idiot believes the official story."

The people aboard the _Normandy_ could be split into two groups: the ones who begged for the assignment aboard an experimental ship and the flunkies who were stuck there because they were expendable. The pilot, one Flight Lieutenant Jeffrey Moreau, was most certainly the prior. There wasn't much public acclaim for test pilots, especially not for ships as mundane as frigates. But whatever acclaim there was, Moreau had. Though his attitude and ego might have earned him a spot as a flunkey, his skills are what earned his posting to _Normandy_. They called him Joker.

"They don't send Spectres on shakedown tours," Shepard interjected, "especially not to backwater worlds like this."

"I'm telling you," Joker continued, vindicated. "There's more going on here than the fruit basket duty."

Before Kaidan could admonish the both of them, the intercom buzzed to life. "Joker, status report," a commanding voice rang through.

"Just cleared the relay, captain." Joker answered in a much more dutiful tone. "ETA to Eden Prime: 30 minutes."

"Hook us into the nearest comm buoy," the captain ordered. "I want reports relayed back to Alliance brass ASAP."

"Copy that, sir," Joker acknowledged. "Better brace yourself. I think Nihlus is headed your way."

"He's _already_ here, lieutenant," the captain said, unamused by the remark. Joker grew visibly tense with the response. "Tell Commander Shepard to meet me in the briefing room."

"Sir," Joker acknowledged, resigned and shaking his head as he switched off the intercom. "You get all that?" he asked, turning back to Shepard.

Shepard had his forehead in his palm by that point. "Great," he growled, "you pissed the captain off and now _I'm_ going to pay for it."

"Hey, don't blame me. The captain's always in a bad mood."

"Only when he's talking to you, Joker," Kaidan quipped.

Nihlus stood alone in the _Normandy's_ dimly lit briefing room, hands clasped behind his back, head held high. Images flashed in front of him on a large monitor—visions of idyllic farmland and small settlements scattered across a quiet, out-of-the-way little garden colony at the edges of human territory. The door hissed open behind him, the light from behind its frame briefly casting a human shadow across the room before the door slid shut.

"Commander Shepard," Nihlus greeted the approaching human. "I was hoping you would arrive first," he turned, crossing his arms and relaxing his posture slightly. "We need to talk."

"Where's Captain Anderson?" Shepard asked in a much less welcoming tone than his counterpart.

"He'll be here shortly, there are preparations to be made before we hit boots on the ground." Nihlus motioned back to the viewscreen, still slowly flashing between scenic landscapes. "I'm interested in this world we're going to. Eden Prime? I've heard it's beautiful by _human_ standards."

"I wouldn't know, I don't spend much time on vacation," Shepard shrugged.

"Point," Nihlus conceded. "But it's more than just some port of harbor. It's become something of a symbol for your kind—a world all to your own outside of Council protection, yet tranquil and safe." He turned back to the screen, returning to a more military posture with what passed for a chin held high. "But how safe is it really?"

"I wouldn't know, _turian_," the commander shot back, a drop of indignation in his voice. "Like I said: never been there. Why the interest?"

Nihlus showed no concern with the commander's tone, continuing unabashed. "Humanity has taken great strides since the Relay 314 incident." The fact that the man relegated the war to an _incident_ was enough to make Shepard grit his teeth. "You've struck out on your own, and that can be a very dangerous prospect out here." He looked to the commander, blackened and green eyes narrow beneath his plates. "Is the Alliance really ready for this?"

"For what? _Farming_?" Shepard sneered. "In case you aren't aware, we've been doing that for a while already."

Before Nihlus could retort, the briefing room door opened once again, admitting one Captain David Anderson. "I think it's time we told the commander what's really going on," he interrupted.

Nihlus nodded in agreement. "This mission is far more than a simple shakedown run," the Turian turned back to Shepard.

Shepard shook his head, motioning back to the CIC. "So our pilot keeps telling me." He turned back to the viewscreen, still cycling through images of Eden Prime's farmlands. "So what _is_ this all about?"

"Two weeks ago, a team of our excavators on the surface found something," the captain explained. "An artifact. We think it's prothean."

Prothean: An ancient, highly advanced space-faring species that had disappeared millennia before the rise of any of the modern civilizations. The cause of their suspected extinction or exodus remained unknown, but the construction of just about every marvel of the galaxy had been attributed to their ingenuity. The Mass Relay network, which served as the very basis of the galaxy's transportation, remained their greatest legacy, among what other technology had been left behind.

"The last time your people uncovered a prothean cache, it jumped your civilization forward two centuries," Nihlus interjected. "As it did ours so very long ago."

"And what does this have to do with _Normandy_?" Shepard asked, still unimpressed.

"We're here to recover the artifact and transport it to Council space," the captain said. "I'm sure you aware that this sort of discovery can't be allowed to fall into the wrong hands."

"So we put it on a diplomatic frigate with minimal armaments and an untested-" Shepard paused for a moment, considering just how ill-equipped his posting stood. "Well," he continued, "untested _everything_?"

"We put it on _you_," Nihlus answered with a tight-jawed glare.

Shepard was taken aback by the comment, staring dumbly for a moment before responding. "Me?" was the only response he could muster.

The captain sighed, shaking his head slightly. "The Council has been considering several dozen candidates for the induction of a human spectre." He motioned with his hands toward the commander. "The _first _human spectre. You are at the top of their list."

"I will be accompanying you on this assignment to assess your skills as a candidate," Nihlus explained. "I believe the human term is _try-outs_?" It wasn't clear whether the Turian was making a joke or an insult. "Quaint," he concluded. It was an insult.

Shepard glanced between the two, waiting to speak long enough for an awkward silence to overtake the room. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but it wasn't until the third try that he managed to get anything out. "This is all," he stammered, "very sudden."

"I believe your military doctrine is familiar with the concept of _need-to-know_, yes?" Nihlus asked rhetorically.

"And I'm supposed to expect you to vouch for me?" Shepard skirted the issue, motioning to Nihlus.

Nihlus made a noise that could have passed for a chuckle. "Not all of my people begrudge yours, commander." He approached the commander, standing several heads above him. "Some of us see your species' potential, even if it is—how to say—_unrefined_."

Shepard sighed, running his hands across his scalp and briefly examining his own feet. A spectrum of questions buzzed through his head, few of which he suspected would be given any real answers. He glanced briefly to the viewscreen, still quietly flipping back and forth between the same scenic vistas. After taking few deep breaths, he stood up straight and looked to Anderson. "Give me the brief," he said.

Anderson gave a curt nod of acknowledgement as he approached the viewscreen. "Sixty three hours ago, excavators on Eden Prime discovered a cache of artifacts. This was the largest," the captain explained, tapping the viewscreen.

The idyllic images flipped from a field of flowers to what looked like a stripped-out quarry, barren and desolate. Shredded, alien-looking sheets and chunks of grooved metal littered the site. A large and seemingly-intact pylon stood tall at the center, made out of the same materials by the looks of it. Geometric, rune-like grooves indented its otherwise sharp and flat surfaces, glowing faintly green. It certainly looked prothean to Shepard, or judging by what he'd heard their artifacts described as anyway. Whatever it was, it still had batteries and it looked important.

"Early analysis indicates prothean origin. Likely a data-storage device," the captain continued. "Forty eight hours ago we received an unencrypted transmission from the excavators requesting Alliance assistance in the matter, hoping for some kind of reward."

"So what's the problem?" Shepard asked. "Send a freighter and pick it up."

Nihlus shook his head. "The problem is that your people don't know how to secure a communiqué," he said, returning to his prior condescending tone. "_We_ picked up that transmission, too."

"Okay," Shepard shrugged incredulously. "And you're here now. Still not seeing the problem."

"Do you want to know how many mercenary convoys from the Terminus pass through this system?" Nihlus sneered.

The captain stepped between the two, pulling the briefing back on track. "We don't know how many people picked up that transmission, so we're taking every precaution," he explained. "That's where we come in." The viewscreen flipped again, this time displaying a large map of the excavation site. "The artifact has been relocated to a small port a few klicks from where it was discovered."

"Your team and myself will secure the area. We'll be assisted by a local contingent of your forces," Nihlus said, approaching the screen and marking a few key locations surrounding the dock. "Once we're sure we've got the site locked down, we hold position and await the _PFS Havinclaw_. It's scheduled to arrive in-system within eighteen hours." He tapped the location of the artifact. "They'll be dropping off a team of our engineers to secure the device for transport. Once they arrive, you and I will fall back to their position and see them off. _Normandy_ will provide escort to the Widow system, where we'll-"

The intercom blared, interrupting the Turian. "Captain," Joker's voice came through, significantly less insubordinate than just a few minutes prior. "We have an incoming transmission from Eden Prime," he said with a worried tone, "you need to see this."

"Put it on-screen," the captain ordered.

The screen changed once more to a garbled image. The three could barely make out the audio, which blared with gunfire and static intermittently. What they had previously seen as a bright vista was now a warzone raging in front of their own eyes. A human man appeared on-screen, clad in military-grade armor. "-of the 212-…-general distress-" he said, half of his words inaudible between the sounds of gunshots. "-Came out of nowhere, we need-" he attempted to plea before a stray shot pierced his chest. The man fell backward, the camera panning to the sky to reveal an enormous vessel tearing through the clouds. It resembled a black claw, slowly carving its way toward the surface. The picture flickered and warped and a tremendous roar overtook the audio before the signal abruptly cut out to static.

"Rewind eight seconds and pause," the captain ordered. The picture flipped back to the vessel and froze. It was too distorted to discern much detail, but it was clearly unfriendly.

"You're going to need a new plan," Shepard said.

_Normandy_ was by no means a warship. She had three small decks, minimal crew-capacity, an under-stocked armory and just two fixed, forward-facing cannons. She could take a pirate or two in a pinch, but neither _Normandy_ nor her crew were anywhere near prepared to fight a ground-war. The situation on the surface certainly resembled a ground-war. She yet sailed nobly toward danger despite her crew's apprehension.

Shepard himself was no less apprehensive than his compatriots. Being a prototypical ship on diplomatic assignment, there was little in the way of combat gear. The commander had to make-do with wearing a military-grade EVA hardsuit. It certainly looked like armor, but it wasn't top-of-the-line. The commander's suit could project protective kinetic barriers designed to deflect orbital debris, but they would only deflect a few bullets before they were fried. It was painted coal grey. A red stripe with white borders adorned the right arm, meant to distinguish his rank from a distance.

Shepard stood with Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko in the cargo bay, both sorting out their equipment before the drop. Kaidan's suit was similar in appearance and construction, if slightly more marginal in protective features. He had a particular set of skills, however. Even without the barriers and the plating, he was still significantly more protected than Shepard when the biotics were accounted for. This did not make him feel any more comfortable about the situation. "So it's just us and the turian?" he asked, holstering a pistol at his hip.

"I don't much care for it either," Shepard answered, taking a rifle from his locker and inspecting it thoroughly. "I don't think he had a Plan B."

"He's a Spectre," Kaidan retorted, "he's _got_ to have a Plan B."

"I mean a Plan B that ends with us still alive," Shepard glared toward Nihlus, standing tall and heavily armed, as he spoke with the captain across the cargo bay.

Kaidan took up a rifle of his own and threw it over his shoulder where it snapped into place on the back of his suit. "Well, maybe we should come up with a Plan C," he said with a small grin. "You know, just in-case."

The cargo bay door slid open with a humid gust of air roaring into the ship. It was always somewhat of a shock, going from breathing ship-board air to a real atmosphere. There aren't many smells aboard a ship; the air-scrubbers keep every breath sterile and dry. It's easy to forget what real air smells and tastes like, and it comes as quite a shock when you're almost thrown across the deck by it. Thankfully, everyone in the hold had learned to keep proper footing by that point, so there weren't any bruises for the doctor to deal with like the first few assignments.

Nihlus seemed content with his loadout, judging by how he took a running start toward the open doors of the ship. Kaidan tried to ask what he was doing, but by the time he got to the word "are" Nihlus had leapt out into the open air and onto the surface. Captain Anderson approached with a wide frown on his face. Kaidan and Shepard started to stand at attention, but Anderson waved them off.

"Nihlus is going to make his approach from the West," the captain explained. "He says he moves faster on his own." He pointed to what remained of the gear that the two men hadn't donned. "He said you should stay put—that _'try-outs'_ were cancelled."

"Like hell we will, sir," Shepard sneered.

"_I_ told him that wouldn't happen," the captain continued, disregarding the officer's choice of words. "You still take orders from _me_, and I'm sending you two in from the East. You're going to rendezvous with whatever's left of the 212 and organize a retaliatory strike. Their last known position put them near a small dormitory complex two klicks out from the excavation site."

The wind died down as _Normandy_ came to a gentle stop just above the surface of the planet. The smell of smoke slowly overtook the air, and fires were visible from outside the open doors of the hold. Kaidan finished gathering what remained of his equipment, gave the captain an informal salute and made his way to the loading ramp toward the battlefield outside.

Captain Anderson turned to the commander. "Re-securing the artifact is your top priority, commander. No heroics," he ordered.

"You know me, sir," Shepard nodded, walking toward the loading ramp. He stopped briefly before he reached the doors, turning back to the captain. "What if I say no?" he asked.

"You can't," Anderson answered.

"I can," Shepard retorted.

"You won't."


	2. Chapter 1

Eden Prime

_Normandy_ pulled away from the surface, taking off back into orbit at a significant pace. Sounds of gunfire rang through the burning valley and the smell of smoke filled the air. It was mid-day local-time, but the sky was dusk orange and the clouds were dark. Commander Shepard stood at the top of a hill overlooking their destination, which just so happened to be the source of the smoke and gunfire. Lieutenant Alenko stood atop the same hill, standing at the ready with rifle in-hand.

Shepard tapped his wrist and a holographic display flickered into life, exhibiting a map of the area. He glanced it over carefully, occasionally swiping and tapping the display and examining what little information they had. "Orbital telemetry is shot," he said with a discontented sigh. "We've got some months-old data, and other than that we're blind."

"Well, if it helps, I think the action is that way," Kaidan said, pointing his weapon toward the settlement.

Shepard sighed and pulled his rifle from his back. A small, wooded valley stood between their hill and the settlement, obscuring whatever battle was echoing throughout the region. "We'll make for the tree-line. Should give us some decent cover to scout ahead."

Kaidan nodded as the pair began a careful jog toward the settlement. The terrain was pecked and scarred with signs of violence. There was the occasional stain of blood or discarded weapon, but no bodies or wounded within sight. There was little and sporadic cover. The whole field was a kill-zone, but it seemed they late to the party. By the time they'd reached the tree-line, the sounds of conflict weren't so distant. When a round whizzed past them, both men instinctively bolted toward the cover of the trees. More rounds pecked their chosen shelter, sending bits of wood and red-hot metal shrapnel slicing through the air only inches away from their heads. Within a few moments, the shots stopped and the situation quieted down.

Kaidan peeked around the edge of his chosen tree. He could see a few pre-fab structures across the grove. Several small fires burned across a handful of fallen trees, but he could see no movement. "Stray shots," he said. "Whoever fired them, I don't think they saw us."

More shots rang out the moment the lieutenant finished speaking, but they weren't being fired in their direction. Shepard peeked around cover. He saw a man running desperately toward them, turning and firing wildly back toward the settlement every few moments. He was wearing civilian clothes, stained deep red. Kaidan started to call for his attention, but Shepard waved him off with a glare. Within moments, a pair of small machines zipped through foliage, firing a volley of surgically precise shots which tore through the fleeing man and sent him tumbling to the ground. As quickly as they had come, the little flying drones retreated back toward the settlement, leaving the man writhing and bleeding on the ground.

Kaidan again started toward the man, but Shepard took the lieutenant by the shoulder and pulled him back behind cover. "Wait!" the commander hissed quietly.

"We're supposed to be helping here!" Kaidan argued.

"I said wait," Shepard said beneath his breath. "That's an order."

Kaidan pulled his shoulder free and scowled at the commander, taking up position back behind the tree and watching the wounded man. Several moments passed and the man started howling incomprehensibly, likely begging for help. Kaidan gritted his teeth, but when he looked back to Shepard he received the same glare of admonishment. Another minute passed and the man still lay screaming. Kaidan was seriously considering disobeying that order when two figures approached the casualty. They were tall, slim and humanoid in appearance but just different enough to be unsettling. They looked to be made entirely out of a variety of polymers molded into strange, skinless musculature. Their movements were mechanical and deliberate. Their elongated heads swiveled back and forth before zeroing-in on the wounded man. Their faces were nothing but a single white, shining light, dilating for focus. They took the man from the ground, ignoring his pleas and his struggle, and carried him back toward the settlement.

Once the strange machines were beyond earshot, Kaidan turned back to the commander. "How-" he tried to ask, before realizing he was at a loss for words.

"No bodies," Shepard answered, slightly less—but still significantly—dumbfounded. "They had to have gone somewhere," he continued as he stared blankly at the departing machines. He shook his head and blinked, slowly coping with the magnitude of his own ignorance. He tapped the side of his helmet and opened secure communications. "Nihlus?" he asked.

After a few moments of silence, another voice came through his helmet. "I thought I told your Captain that we would maintain radio silence," Nihlus answered, annoyed.

"He forgot to mention that," Shepard said. "Are you seeing what we're seeing, here?"

Nihlus sighed loudly and intentionally to ensure his own radio picked it up. "If what you're seeing is an armada of geth, then yes, I am seeing what you are seeing."

Shepard muted his radio and turned to the lieutenant. "Do you know what a geth is?" he asked. Kaidan shrugged and shook his head. The commander tapped his radio again. "We don't have any idea what a geth is, Nihlus," he said.

"They're bad, commander. They're very bad." Nihlus sounded just as cold and condescending as ever, but his backhandedness seemed more a product of genuine concern now than arrogance. "I'm securing the dormitories. You two stick with the plan. Find your people and bring them here." With that, the spectre cut his radio.

Shepard would have been gripping his own forehead were it not for the helmet. "He says we should go find the 212," he turned to Kaidan.

"I think they're that way," Kaidan pointed his rifle toward the path of the geth and the now distant pleas of a dying man.

###

Nihlus tapped his wrist, cutting his radio. Evidently humans didn't know what radio silence was. And if they didn't know what geth are, they certainly didn't realize that geth were very good listeners. Nihlus was _not_ securing the dormitories, though with any luck the geth would believe so. Nihlus was, in reality, approaching the dig-site. geth presence was minimal. They seemed to be fanning outward, wiping out anything within their radius. They _would_ be coming back, that much Nihlus knew. If he was going to secure the artifact, it had to be now—_without_ the humans.

The vessel from the transmission was visible on the horizon, though with much greater clarity now. It was _much_ larger than Nihlus had assumed from what little he'd seen before. It was at least two kilometers in height, probably more. What had appeared to be a claw turned out to be legs—lots of legs. And it used those legs to walk its sizeable structure across the surface of the planet. It should be impossible. A vessel of that size shouldn't be capable of entering atmosphere. It most certainly shouldn't be able to land, let alone walk around. And yet, despite all the things he _knew_ that it shouldn't be doing, here it was doing precisely those things.

The man could deal with only one problem at a time. The two-kilometer-tall problem would have to wait. The mission directive hadn't changed; secure the artifact for transport. If that plan didn't work out, there was always Plan C. He had several pounds of high explosives, which should have been more than sufficient to destroy the artifact should the need have arisen. If the Council couldn't have it, the geth sure as hell wouldn't.

Nihlus crossed through the excavation site with ease. The humanoid geth seemed completely disinterested in him, though he didn't take any chances drawing attention to himself. Drone after drone zipped overhead, outward from the leviathan's shadow and into the ever-expanding beachhead. Geth were just as strange as the historical records indicated. They were purpose-driven and discretionary. Nihlus didn't engage for fear of attracting their attention, even as he watched them dragging humans toward the towering vessel. Large metal spikes littered the excavation site, tracks leading away from their locations. Their purpose was clearly sinister, but their construction was alien. They didn't resemble geth technology, but the geth hadn't been seen in over three centuries. They seemed to have been busy in that time.

The dig-site opened up into a small warehouse district. More spikes littered the area, but it was otherwise unoccupied. Nihlus spotted a cargo train nearby. With any luck, it could take him to the artifact's location, which just so happened to be within the path of the walking behemoth. The spectre stepped into the metal-plated platform surrounding the warehouses. Cargo crates lined the area, arranged as make-shift cover. Judging by the gunshot holes and plasma scoring, they didn't work.

Nihlus saw movement from the corner of his eye, walking out from one of the buildings. He quickly ducked behind a stack of battered crates and readied his rifle. The sound of footsteps echoed amidst the ambient soundtrack of distant fighting. Judging by the footfalls, it was one lone contact, walking casually. The inconsistency of steps could have meant one of two things: the contact didn't know where it was going, or it was looking for something. Nihlus peeked his head from the cover carefully. It wasn't geth.

Another turian figure stood casually on the platform, leaning against a railing and looking out toward the behemoth. He was taller than Nihlus, and his armor was significantly lighter and sleeker. He was lightly armed with a mere pistol, and his eyes shined with rings of pale blue. Nihlus lowered his rifle and stood to face his comrade. "Saren?" he called out.

The other turian turned with a wry turian smile. "Nihlus," he replied.

"This isn't your assignment," Nihlus questioned. "What are you doing here?" He spoke with a confusion he hadn't expressed in many years. Spectres did _not_ just show up without a reason. While they didn't communicate well amongst themselves, they had a certain working respect for one another. To meet another spectre here was no coincidence.

"The council thought you could use some help," Saren lied. "By the looks of it, they were right." He approached his colleague casually with a cold stare. "They tell me you've been following a human around. Tell me it isn't true, Nihlus."

Nihlus shook his head. "Spectre candidate," he explained. "It's hardly relevant at the moment."

"And you think they can get it right this time?" Saren prodded. "After the last time we gave them the opportunity?"

"This is hardly the time to have this argument again, Saren," Nihlus growled, turning back toward the behemoth on the horizon. "Why are the geth here? Why did they leave the Veil?"

"I think we both know why," Saren answered.

"They've never come out for prothean technology before," Nihlus continued. "Why now? Why _this?_"

Saren crossed behind his colleague, who was too preoccupied with the burning vista to notice the click of the man's sidearm being pulled from its holster. "Perhaps it's something new," he replied noncommittally.

"It just doesn't make any sense. There was never a truce, but we had an unspoken-" Nihlus tried to continue before the sound of gunfire and a metal slug interrupted his thoughts.

Nihlus slumped to the ground, his head hitting the platform with a hollow thud. Saren calmly snapped his weapon back at his side as several humanoid geth stepped out from behind the warehouse. The machines clicked and buzzed rapidly in a strange kind of vocalization, examining the dead Spectre before standing at Saren's side.

"I appreciate your patience in this matter," Saren nodded to the machines. Several of the geth started to retrieve the body before being interrupted. "Stop!" Saren commanded. The geth stood down, dropping the body back to the platform and emitting another hollow thud. "Not him," Saren shook his head. "He deserves better. We leave him here." The geth vocalized with more curt grinding buzzes before returning to Saren's side. "Bring the charges. We'll be leaving soon."

###

A lone shot rang out from the distance as Commander Shepard observed the pair of kidnapping geth within the settlement from behind a modest pre-fab dormitory, Lieutenant Alenko by his side. They'd followed the geth for a good fifteen minutes. They were in no rush. Their captive had fallen into unconsciousness quite some time ago, and now his captors were slowly laying him atop a rounded pedestal along the outskirts of the colony. The man's hands and feet were splayed outward into the dirt and he was placed on his back with an almost ritualistic attention to detail.

"What are they doing to him?" Kaidan whispered, staring at the scene through the scope of his rifle.

"We've been over this," Shepard answered, peering through his own scope. "I don't even know what they are. I think that covers all questions you have for me."

"Well, they're making you a spectre, right?" Kaidan mused. "Shouldn't you know these things?" Shepard took his eyes off the gruesome scene long enough to glare at his subordinate. Practically feeling the look of contempt, Kaidan shrugged. "Small ship, word travels."

"Joker?" Shepard asked.

"Joker." Kaidan confirmed.

The man screamed himself awake, writing atop the pedestal and interrupting the soldiers' exchange. The geth were holding him down by the arms and legs when a long spike pierced his chest and carried him upward of ten feet into the air. He continued to struggle for a few moments before finally giving way, going motionless and letting his arms and legs hang toward the now distant turf. The pair of geth, seemingly satisfied, turned away and began deploying more, identical pedestals. Kaidan looked to the commander, eyes wide, with a mix of nausea and fear.

Shepard merely shook his head. "Like I said," he muttered. "I don't know."

Another human figure sprinted into view from the direction of the dig-site. Donned in pale white armor, stained with dirt and scored by burns, she fled as another pair of flying drones pursued her along the muddy, unpaved road. The drones shot with the same surgical precision as they had prior, but the fleeing woman did not fall. As for their part, the humanoid geth paid no attention to the soldier as she bounded past them, content to leave the dirty work to their smaller and quicker counterparts. She dived behind a rocky outcropping, pulling a rifle from her back and snapped it into firing position.

"212," Kaidan said, readying his weapon.

"Do it," Shepard ordered.

Before the woman could let off a shot a volley of fire came from the West, sending one drone dropping to the ground and grazing another. She wasn't alone. She turned out of cover, rifle in-hand, firing on the remaining drone. She wasn't as accurate as the machine, but she was certainly skilled enough to pierce its lightly armored hull and send it tumbling down near its friend. She could see her benefactors rushing down the road as the two humanoid Geth finally took notice. They readied their own weapons—human designs clearly scavenged from their victims—and trained them on the armored woman.

Unfortunately, the machines were interrupted before they could open fire as Shepard and Kaidan fired another wave of molten rounds clean through their plastic carapaces. The armored woman joined in, still pumping rounds into the Geth even as their lights flickered out and their bodies fell to the ground. Even as Shepard and Kaidan lowered their weapons, the woman pushed forward, still firing into the rapidly deteriorating mechanisms. Each step she took brought another burst of fire. Gears turned into dust, wires into webbing and joints into stumps with each and every shot. Her gun clicked when its fires' fuel was spent, but she still pulled the trigger.

"I think they're dead," Kaidan shouted from across the dirt path, trying to get her attention.

The woman lowered her rifle grudgingly. "Can't be too sure. They like playing possum." She tapped her helmet and its face-plate folded inward, revealing her worn expression. She looked tired, to say the least. Recognizing the commander's stripes, she stood at attention and offered a sharp salute. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, Second Frontier Division, 212th Battalion."

Though her ability and willingness to follow regulations in the middle of a warzone was admirable, Shepard wasn't keen on formalities. He waved off her salute with her hand. "Where's the rest of your unit, Williams?" he asked informally.

"You're looking at it, sir," she answered, clear and concise.

Kaidan threw the commander a sideways look of confusion before addressing Williams. It seemed to be a mutual feeling. "You're all that's left?"

"As far as I know, sir," she nodded.

"Start from the beginning, chief," Shepard interrupted. "What happened here?"

Williams sighed and shook her head. "It was a mess," she scoffed. "We were out on patrol when that ship came down. We were barely geared up by the time it landed." She paced back and forth, trying to articulate. "Then _they_ showed up. They started at the port. We tried to hold them off, but they kept pushing us back. A few of us posted on overwatch didn't get noticed during the first wave." She looked back to the officers with a worried look in her eye. "I think they're geth."

Shepard shrugged. "Still don't know what a geth is."

"They're bad," Williams explained.

"So I've heard," Shepard rolled his eyes.

"We can figure this out later," Kaidan interjected. "Chief, did you see a turian out there? Big guy, all on his own? Spectre markings on his armor?"

"And a smarmy disposition," Shepard mumbled.

Williams was surprised at the question, but nodded her head. "We _did_. We don't get many aliens here. He stuck out like a sore thumb." She pointed up the road. "He was heading toward the warehouses. The flashlights didn't seem to care?"

Shepard tilted his head. "Flashlights?"

Williams chuckled. "Gotta' call them something, and they've got flashlights for heads. Best we could come up with on short notice."

"Well, we'll work on that." He nodded in the direction of the dig-site. "Lead the way."

Chief Williams was happy to oblige, and started the short jaunt toward their destination. She took them away from the road into the brush and trees surrounding the developed land. "We'll take the scenic route," she instructed, marching at a rather brisk pace considering she'd survived a full-blown siege. "We don't want to attract their attention."

Kaidan marched dutifully alongside his colleagues. "They don't seem that tough," he observed. "The ones back there didn't take much punishment."

"That's because they were _alone_," Williams marched on, keeping her eyes firmly forward. "In small groups, it's like they don't even care. Don't let that fool you. When they're in formation, all together, they _don't_ stop, and they _don't_ miss."

Thankfully, the trail seemed abandoned. Whatever the 'flashlights' were up to, it looked like a torch-and-run operation. Tacticians used to call it a "Scorched Earth" strategy. Hit a target hard enough to send them running, take what you want and then leave as quickly as you came. It seemed these things had reached the third part of the strategy. On occasion, the squad would see one or two of the humanoids jogging briskly back toward the behemoth on the horizon. Either they didn't see the team or Williams was right and they simply didn't care.

Once they'd reached the dig-site, it was clear that they had no intention of staying any longer. The area was littered with the same pedestals and spikes they had seen earlier. Other bits of tech and a handful of portable consoles were strewn about the area. It seemed this was their forward operating base for however long they were on the offensive. Upon closer inspection, the discarded spikes were stained crimson with more tracks leading away and toward the behemoth. They had been used. Shepard still had the image of the screaming man rolling around his mind as he examined the vicinity, and he'd be likely to have it for a long time. Among all the questions hanging in the air, one rose to the surface of Shepard's conscious.

"Who were these for?" he asked.

Williams bowed her head solemnly. "The 212," she answered.

"And where are they now?" Kaidan chimed in.

Williams raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "How long have you been here?"

"Less than an hour." He answered.

She bowed her head again, this time with a single, resentful laugh, hands on her hips. "They get put on the spikes. They hang there for a while. Then they get down and walk away." She raised her head again with a grimace. "And no, I don't know why. Brainwashing, maybe. Slaves. I don't know."

"Brainwashing traditionally isn't accomplished through the sternum," Shepard noted. "We need to keep moving. We're here to secure the artifact you found. Is it still at the port?"

"Should be," Williams said. "It's just a few more minutes up the trail if we can keep pace."

As if on-cue, the behemoth vessel in the distance let out an ear-shattering roar and slowly ascended from its perch on the hillside. Smoke and fire rose from its underbelly as it fought the forces of gravity almost effortlessly, gracefully taking off into the air and toward the sky. Several pieces of tech in the area sparked and shorted, whatever lights or readouts they had going dark. Then came the shockwave.

As if a small nuclear bomb had been set off, a blast of hot air hit the humble team, followed by a tremendous force. The sound was deafening and constant, emanating from the departing vessel. They were thrown to the ground violently with the raw pressure wave. Shepard couldn't think and quickly forgot to breathe, instinctually bringing his arms to his head as the pressure and sound pulsed through his skull. It seemed hours before it passed, and even once it had his head still throbbed like the morning after shore leave. The rest of the team was no better off, from the looks of it. From his less-than-dignified position in the dirt, he could see that every speck of dust within miles had been tossed into the open air and a thick cloud of smog was slowly rolling in.

Kaidan slowly stumbled back to his feet. "I think it's gone-" he started to state the blatantly obvious before realizing he couldn't hear his own voice. He held his hands to the sides of his head and shuddered.

"What?!" Shepard yelled, sitting upright on the ground, gently tapping his helmet and staring at the lieutenant with a mix of inquisitiveness and frustration. "Hey, I think they left!" he said, blinking and wincing.

Chief Williams was on her feet before the others even came-to. "We need to go," she advised, taking Shepard by the hand and pulling him to his feet. "I recommend we run." It took her a few moments to remember the man shouting in the dirt was, in fact, an officer. "Sir," she corrected herself.

It only took a few moments for everyone to collect themselves. They departed the site abruptly and ran as quickly as they could toward the port. After Shepard's hearing had returned, he could finally hear himself breathing heavily. It had been a while since he'd been on a real assignment. It wasn't the physical exertion. He was still in top shape and they honestly hadn't done all that much. But that familiar tension of always being on guard had caught him _off_ guard. The man would never admit it, but he felt like this entire situation was well and far above his station. He'd been trained in special operations and he still held that honor officially, but for well over three years he had been the unofficial hand-shaker of the Alliance military. They'd told him he'd garnered too much of a public reputation for covert operations. He didn't buy it.

Williams recognized the commander's huffing and puffing, but neglected to tackle the subject. A hero of the Skyllian Blitz didn't need an up-start NCO giving him grief, certainly not in the middle of an operation. She made a mental note, however, just in case he ever tried to throw his weight around. She was content with her accompaniment for the time being as they reached the warehouse. "Cargo train's not far," she said, "it should get us there in no-time."

They stepped up onto the metal plated platform to witness a corpse—turian—accompanied by a friendly neighborhood civilian stripping him of his equipment. He was human, at the very least, which was a relieving sight if one could assume there were more nearby. Williams wasn't as relieved, pulling her sidearm from her hip and training it on the unaware scavenger.

Shepard took the chief's gun by the barrel and pointed it to the ground, shaking his head before turning to the looter. "Hey!" he shouted.

The looter swung around with the Turian's rifle held clumsily in his hands. He promptly dropped it upon seeing the chief's weapon, raising his hands high in the air. "Woah, hold on!" he pleaded. "He was already dead, I swear!"

"Step away," Shepard said firmly. "Now." He motioned to Kaidan to approach the corpse.

Kaidan closed the distance between himself and the scene quickly, kicking the discarded rifle away and forcefully pushing the looter aside. Keeping one eye on the interloper, he gave the body the once-over and ducked his head when he recognized the face. "It's Nihlus," he reported.

Williams joined the lieutenant as Shepard approached the interloper, who carefully backed away from the scene. "Look, have you _seen_ what's happening out there?" he tried to explain. "My name is Powell. I'm a dock worker. I was _just_ trying to find a weapon, to defend myself."

"I don't care," Shepard shook his head. "Do you know what happened to him?"

Chief Williams took one glance at Nihlus before speaking up. "This isn't him," she reported to the commander.

"What?" Shepard asked, being careful to keep his attention focused toward Powell.

"The turian we saw. This isn't him," she said. "My guy was a lot more unsettling, and that's by turian standards."

"Saren," Powell spoke up. "There was another one. Your buddy called him Saren."

"How do you know this?" Kaidan chimed in gently, playing the good-cop of the equation.

"I was hiding behind the crate. I saw it all. The synthetics, Nihlus, Saren, everything."

Shepard took a moment and carefully examined the worker. He didn't seem to be bluffing. "Did Saren do this?" The worker nodded cautiously. "Where did he go?" Shepard asked.

"I saw him pull the trigger with my own eyes. He took the cargo rail down to Platform Two, where they took that big find a few days ago" the worker said nervously, hands shaking. "I think they had explosives."

Shepard groaned and stretched his neck, emitting a few pops and creaks. He pushed the worker back toward the warehouse door. "Stay put," he ordered. "We'll send a team back for you. I hope for your sake that you aren't armed when they get here." He nodded toward the cargo train and the team started carefully toward their goal, leaving Powell to himself, standing quiet and confused.

Kaidan followed dutifully, but saw fit to question. "We can't just leave him,"

Williams concurred, albeit for less-than-generous reasons. "What we can't do is leave him with enough munitions to start his own little army."

Shepard continued forward, stepping gently onto the open-aired cargo train. It swayed gently with his weight, but not enough to cause concern. "Not my job," he dismissed the feedback summarily. "What do you know about this artifact?" he asked, tapping at the train's controls once his compatriots had come aboard.

"Not much, just I overheard what the labcoats were saying." Williams braced herself against the car's railing as the train began to move. "They couldn't figure out how to turn it on, that much is for sure."

Kaidan swiveled his head to the chief with a crooked brow. "They found an ancient alien device," he said incredulously, "and the first thing they did was look for the 'on' switch?" He shook his head, looking back toward the edge of the train. "Doesn't seem very smart."

"I said the same damn thing," Williams agreed. "They said they were sure it wasn't a weapon, just some kind of interface."

Shepard relaxed against one of the sparsely placed pieces of cargo as the train accelerated toward Platform Two. "Let's not go pressing any buttons, regardless." He watched Williams shuffling around at the edge of the car. Her outward demeanor was calm and controlled, but he wasn't buying it. "No survivors?" he asked.

Williams didn't turn around, let alone look in his direction. "As far as I know. Maybe a few stragglers like me if we're lucky. Can't be many."

Shepard nodded politely, even though she was facing the opposite direction. "How long have you been stationed here?"

"Seven months," she answered briefly.

"So you knew them pretty well?" Shepard pressed, crossing his arms casually.

Williams turned with a frustrated step to face the commander. "Is this an official inquest, sir?"

Kaidan interrupted from further up the car. "We're almost there," he pointed to the approaching platform and readied his weapon.

Shepard stood back up and primed his own weapon. "Just making conversation, chief," he said as he crossed to the edge of the car and waited by the boarding ramp.

The train eased itself to a stop at the platform. The team, weapons at the ready, cautiously disembarked and scanned the area. There were a number of the humanoid geth strewn about the area, lying inert. They didn't seem to be damaged or whatever machine equivalent of "dead" would be appropriate, but they certainly weren't moving about. Williams approached the closest machine and pumped several rounds into it, immediately marching toward the next when she was satisfied with its dysfunctionality. Kaidan would have ordered her to respect noise discipline, but Shepard called him off with a hand on the shoulder and a sympathetic look. Williams repeated the process for every geth within the vicinity, and even entertained the notion of shooting them all again just to be sure.

"This was a token force," she explained. "I guess the bulk of them left on that ship."

Shepard continued scanning the area regardless. "Gone or not, I don't want to be taken off-guard again." He shot an understanding nod to the chief before replacing it with a commanding glare. "If you're done here, we'd like to go find this artifact."

Williams acknowledged and led the group the short distance to the device's last known location through a scarred and burned amalgam of metal barriers. "What makes you think it's even still here?"

Crossing through a small depot, a pale green light illuminated the metallic contours of the platform. Taking the last turn, the device came into view—the same device the commander had seen during the briefing, albeit glowing much brighter now. It shone with what looked like some kind of runes or controls, sitting idly at the edge of a docking pier. If this was what the siege was all for, Williams stood unimpressed. Kaidan, on the other hand, was quite the opposite.

"I think they found the 'on' switch," the lieutenant muttered, staring at the tall, slim device quietly pulsating at its perch.

Shepard gave the artifact a cursory glance before continuing to scan the area, weapon at the ready while his less disciplined compatriots slowly approached it. There were a few more geth scattered about, just as non-functional as the others. There was a curious mechanism, however, several meters from the artifact. It was large, consisting of a number of opaque tubes held firm in a hollow metal casing. And it was humming. Shepard approached his own object of curiosity carefully. It had a rhythmic hum, slowly getting quicker and quicker. He'd seen things like this, before he was assigned to the proverbial Siberia. Not this one precisely, but similar mechanisms. Like the geth, they were bad.

"Bomb," Shepard muttered, staring intently at the humming tube. "Bomb!" he yelled, mustering the necessary urgency to shout to his subordinates.

Kaidan perked up, seeing the bomb humming nearby. It took him a moment to process the information, but his eyes grew alarmingly wide once he had. He bolted toward it, leaving Williams to the artifact, tapping his wrist and opening a holographic display. He knelt next to the bomb, examining it carefully without touching it, looking back and forth between it and the screen hovering above his wrist. "Uh oh," he mumbled nervously.

"Uh oh?!" Shepard shouted, stepping away from the increasingly noisy tube. "What 'uh oh'?"

Kaidan examined the readouts on his wrist, the panic on his face only increasing as he consumed more information about what they were dealing with. "Shielded. Low-yield. Nondiscretionary warhead. Time-delay detonator."

"English, Alenko!" Shepard winced.

"It's a tactical nuke on a timer and it's armed," Kaidan translated.

"Williams!" Shepard yelled back to the chief, beckoning her over. She didn't budge. "How much time until it—you know, boom?" He tried to avoid words like 'detonate' and 'kill us all.'

"It doesn't have a ticking clock, commander. They don't actually put those on real bombs," Kaidan explained, annoyed by the distraction as he quickly tapped through screens across his wrist.

"Can you disarm it?" Shepard prodded, his concern far outweighing his professional courtesy. Kaidan shrugged, which prompted the commander to turn back to Williams, still enthralled by the artifact quietly pulsating across the platform. "Williams!" he yelled again. She didn't acknowledge. The artifact was glowing brighter and pulsing faster, and she was slowly stepping toward it. He tapped the lieutenant on the shoulder. "Please don't get us killed," he requested as he started marching back toward the chief.

Upon further inspection, Williams wasn't just walking toward the alien device. It was like she was being pulled—enticed. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams!" Shepard addressed her, still eliciting no response. He stopped at the threshold of the device's glow, looking between Kaidan's bomb and the chief's situation. "God damn it, something's wrong with her!" he called to the make-shift bomb technician.

"Kinda' busy, here!" Kaidan brushed him off as he carefully removed a part of the bomb's plated casing.

Split-second calls were never Shepard's strong suit. He could keep things under control so long as everyone was playing by the same set of rules. There were no rules about cosmic hypnosis and imminent nuclear detonations, as far as he was aware. And when there were no rules to fall back on, the commander had a way of being brash and bull-headed. This would have been evident to observers as he made up his mind, charging toward the chief and violently knocking her away from the device with his shoulder.

_Beacon_. Shepard realized its purpose as a beacon as he stood within its proximity. It was certainly a curious object. It wasn't a weapon. It could neither build nor destroy. It didn't speak, but its voice was enthralling. It was like a phone with nobody on the other end—just the same recorded message playing over and over again. Shepard understood why Williams was so keen on approaching it. The Beacon had a way about itself. He felt his feet slipping up from the ground as he got closer. Then, light. Teeth. Red. Fire. Harvest. Reaper. Eulogy.

Williams came-to slowly. She was fairly certain a superior officer just tackled her. Was it insubordination to hit back? She looked around. The lieutenant was fiddling with something in the corner. He seemed too busy to have just blitzed a subordinate moments ago. That meant it was Shepard. And if her eyes were to be trusted, Shepard was hovering five feet from the ground in front of the artifact. "LT?" she called out, pulling herself to her feet.

"Still busy!" Kaidan responded curtly.

She picked up her rifle and stared at the hovering, unresponsive man with trepidation in her step. "I think there's something wrong with the commander," she said.

"Busy!" Kaidan shouted, far less collected than when he was being shot at earlier.

Williams scoffed. Given the sickly glow, the levitation and his eyes rolling back into his head, it didn't seem wise to just run over and pull the commander down. She weighed her options very carefully, for about four seconds before she raised her weapon and pumped a burst of molten lead into the artifact. It flashed and shuddered, and the commander with it. He yet hung in the air so she fired again, and then once more after that. The device shook and pulsated violently before bursting into shrapnel, knocking the soldiers down and sending Shepard plummeting back to the ground.

Williams immediately checked herself over. None of the shrapnel pierced her armor, but by the feel of it she'd have a few bruises by tomorrow. Kaidan wasn't so astute with his own health, scrambling back to the humming bomb while Williams rushed over to the limp and unconscious commander. He was breathing, but not by much. His pulse was rapid if his suit's internals were trustworthy. She knew a bit of first-aid, enough to know moving an injured person was highly inadvisable. Given the circumstances, she deemed it a moot recommendation as she dragged him away from the smoking remnants of the Beacon.

"I would really appreciate a warning next time!" Kaidan complained, desperately plucking wires and bits from the interior of the bomb. It emitted a loud grinding noise before falling silent, prompting the lieutenant to back away. A few moments passed and there were no nuclear detonations. "I think we're clear," he said.


	3. Chapter 2

Widow

_More details are trickling in regarding yesterday's incident on the human colony Eden Prime. According to local sources, a sizeable Human Systems Alliance fleet has entered and secured the system. Human Ambassador Donnel Udina has called the incident an "egregious attack perpetrated by anti-human forces," though he has declined to comment with any further details. According to the same sources, Eden Prime's infrastructure was not targeted, and the colony's production capacity should be back online within a few short months._

_ This, however, raises the question: why was the colony attacked? We polled our loyal viewers, and popular opinion would suggest that human expansionist policy prompted a retaliatory strike. It has only been a short thirty standard years since the Human Systems Alliance was welcomed into the galactic community, and since that time humans have made remarkably rapid colonization efforts, oftentimes at the expense of powerful states within the Terminus Systems. The Batarian Hegemony has denied responsibility for the attack but, following the Skyllian Blitz, Batarian splinter-groups have been the first suspects in almost every anti-human crime since. While humanity has garnered a relatively positive relationship in Council Space, they have earned a reputation within many traditionalist circles as being self-interested manipulators, which has turned what would have been a standard relief effort into a political—_

Chief Williams punched the mess hall's viewscreen with a single finger, cutting off the broadcast and the opinions of its pundits. They were on third watch by now aboard _Normandy_, far too late in a human sleep schedule to be listening to blatant propaganda. It had been fourteen hours since they departed the planet, all of which the commander spent unconscious in the medical bay attended by the ship's resident physician, Dr. Karin Chakwas. Williams hadn't spoken so much as a word to the rest of the crew since helping to carry the commander aboard, save for accepting Captain Anderson's invitation to accompany them to testify on the incident. She certainly wasn't member of this crew by virtue of being on their ship, and judging by the flickering lights and buckling hull she didn't want to be.

"I was watching that," Kaidan complained from a table across the mess, fork in one hand and a bowl in the other.

Williams frowned at him. "You actually watch that garbage?"

"Don't exactly have ANN out here," he said between mouthfuls of his particularly bland rations.

Williams sat on the opposite side of the room facing the Lieutenant, giving him an offended glare. "How can you eat?" she asked accusatorily.

"You see," Kaidan smiled with a mouthful of flavorless noodles. "I have this hole in my face."

"You know what I mean," Williams rolled her eyes, cutting him off. "Word is your assignment was a spectacular failure." She pointed to the man's bowl. "And you're eating ramen."

"I think it's supposed to be biángbiáng, actually," Kaidan noted. "Not that there's any way to tell."

The infirmary doors across the hall slid open as one Dr. Chakwas saw herself into the commons. Between an outdated culture and modern medicine, many humans found it unreasonably difficult to discern one another's age. The good doctor was no exception, and was a bit of a walking contradiction. She had a comparatively youthful face surrounded by a solid gray head of hair. She was in excellent health and she spoke with a slightly gravelly voice of many years' experience. The crew had a running bet on her age—a bet that was thought to have been won several times. As it turned out, she'd lied about her age each time and split the earnings with the winner.

The good doctor tapped the viewscreen, bringing it to life once more. She casually walked across the room, ignoring the death stare emanating from the ship's latest addition, and handed Lieutenant Alenko a small bottle. Kaidan took the bottle with a wink and a nod and discretely stuffed it into his uniform's pocket, the sound of pills rattling within its plastic.

"What's the word, doctor?" he asked.

"His vitals are strong. Aside from a mild concussion, his injuries are superficial. The brain scan came back normal," the doctor answered. "He should be coming-to any time now."

"Let me know," Kaidan returned his attention to the news feed. "I'll be here."

Satisfied, Dr. Chakwas turned and approached their newest recruit. "You," she pointed to Williams, whose look of disdain turned to one of concern. "You were _supposed_ to report to my infirmary eight hours ago."

"I, uh—" Williams stammered. "I didn't sustain any injuries?" she said with a false smile.

"In spite of the beating your armor had taken by the time you came aboard?"

"Small miracles, huh?"

Dr. Chakwas laughed quietly and shook her head. "You people make the worst patients."

Williams perked up. "You've got something against marines?"

The good doctor laughed again, louder this time. "More than just the one thing, I assure you." She started back toward the infirmary. "Feel free to drop by if you fall down any stairs," she chuckled with a sarcastic grin.

Kaidan snickered to himself, once the doctor was beyond earshot. "I think she likes you," he smirked at the Chief.

###

Shepard groaned and held his hands to his eyes. Wherever he was, it was very bright. It definitely wasn't heaven, unless heaven smelled faintly of antiseptic. The commander didn't subscribe to that sort of thing, anyway. It hurt to open his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried to shut them someone on the other side was pulling them open. He tried to stop them, but his hands were slapped away each time. Finally, he mustered the energy to cough out a few words. "Stop doing that." They were words, at least. The table buckled beneath him. The lights flickered briefly. An ambient hum stuttered before resuming its low, slow rhythm. This was _Normandy;_ that much was certain now. He conceded to the interloper, opened his eyes and looked around, but he was met only with blurry figures and bright lights.

"Commander?" a voice asked from above, hovering a bright, thin light to each of his eyes. "How are you feeling?" it asked more, despite not receiving an answer to the first question. It was an empathetic voice of experience with a hint of bemusement. Dr. Chakwas.

Shepard dodged the question, sitting up slowly on the medical bay's examination table, holding a hand to the back of his head. "What happened?"

"You were knocked out by the blast," she answered. "We carried you back to the ship about fifteen hours ago. You've been out the entire time." She was clearly visible now, as was the bemused expression on her face. She stressed the words as she asked again. "_How are you feeling?"_

Shepard shrugged and held a finger to his temple. "Like I was hit by a truck," he answered, immediately returning with his own line of questioning. "What blast?"

The good doctor stepped away, focusing her attention now on a small medical tablet. "From what I've gathered from your team, whatever you were down there for went and exploded when the new one shot it." She rolled her eyes and tilted her head. "Of course, I'm told this is all 'need-to-know' and I, as the ship's physician, evidently do not _need_ to know what knocked you out for half a day."

Shepard nodded, wincing when he realized just how stiff his neck was. "I know the feeling."

The doctor tapped away at a nearby console, paying considerably less attention to her patient now—a blessing considering her bedside manner. "The captain said he'd like to speak with you once you'd woken up."

He rolled his neck from shoulder to shoulder, emitting a number of pops and cracks. Satisfied, he sighed and gave a weak and slightly worried smile. "I think I'm up for it."

"That's good, because I already sent for him," the doctor gave a more genuine smile.

After a few moments, the infirmary door slid open and admitted a weary-looking Captain Anderson. His uniform was pressed to perfection, of course, and not a single grooming regulation seemed to be violated. His eyes, however, had gained a few circles and one could swear he had more gray hairs than yesterday. He entered the infirmary with his hands behind his back, chin held high, and nodded to the good doctor. The doctor nodded back and gave Shepard a light pat on the shoulder before seeing herself out, closing the door behind her. The captain saw fit to remain at the edge of the room, briefly examining its accommodations. This was the first time he'd been in the infirmary since he was given the initial tour of the ship. _Normandy_ had seen no battles and no significant injuries worthy of a captain's attention. That had changed quickly.

"Help me understand, commander," he said with a ragged-sounding voice from across the room. "I send you down there to assist a Council spectre in securing an artifact. When you return, the spectre is dead, the artifact is destroyed and you're the doctor's first real patient aboard this vessel."

Shepard sat at the edge of the table, carefully adjusting his uniform for fear of adding a dress-code violation to the presumably long list of reprimands he was about to receive. "I mean, when you put it that way, sir," he mumbled quietly.

The captain took a step forward, letting his hands fall to his side. "I want to be on your side here, commander. None of us expected an _invasion_, least of all me, but the Council is going to want a better explanation for just how disastrously this thing went down."

Shepard hung his head low, his head still pounding. "Intel dropped the ball, sir. We had no idea what we were walking into." He looked back up to the captain, who didn't seem entirely impressed with his explanation. "I don't have anything else for you."

Captain Anderson crossed his arms disappointedly, taking another few steps toward the commander before leaning against a wall. "Start with Nihlus. Lieutenant Alenko said you found a witness?"

Shepard nodded affirmatively. "He said there was another turian there. Said his name was Saren. If he's to be believed, that's who killed Nihlus."

A grim expression crossed the captain's face at the mention of the name. "Saren?" he asked. "You're sure?"

"That's what he said. You know him?"

The captain sighed and leaned more of his weight against the wall. "I've had a few run-ins with the man. He's a spectre, one of the best. _Hates_ humans." He paused for a moment in reflection. "If Saren is working with the geth, we've got a lot more problems than one colony going dark."

"Geth, sir?" Shepard perked up. "I spent half a day fighting them and I still haven't got a straight answer. What are they?"

"A synthetic race built by the quarians for labor some three hundred years ago," the captain explained. "They did what artificial intelligence tends to do and left their creators with no homeworld and a significantly smaller population."

Shepard wasn't quite satisfied with the answer, which merely replaced the question 'what's a geth?' with 'what's a quarian?' Furthering the inquiry would have been fruitless at this point, so Shepard simply nodded and accepted the information for the time being. "So they were looking for the Beacon, I assume?"

The captain looked the commander in the eye, puzzled. "Beacon?"

Shepard was taken aback for a moment by the name. "Well, yeah, that's what it's called."

The captain didn't break eye-contact. "That's the strange thing. The geth have never been interested in prothean relics. They're isolationists—haven't been seen in centuries. Starting a war over a dusty piece of tech isn't their MO." He leaned forward toward the commander. "How do you know what it's called?"

Shepard spent a considerable amount of time trying to articulate his next answer. "Before I blacked out, I, uh-" he stumbled with his choice of words, "I had some sort of a vision."

"And it told you what it was called?"

Shepard shook his head. "It wasn't like that. It was like-" he paused, struggling to explain. "Memories, I think. I don't know, something like that."

"Memories of what?" the captain stood from his perch against the wall.

"People dying. Protheans, I suppose." Shepard said, visibly shaken. "Synthetics, I think. It's all sort of… fuzzy."

"No schematics or keys to the universe?" Anderson asked.

Shepard chuckled nervously. "No, sir. Just the death thing."

Captain Anderson nodded and started toward the door. "We're headed to the Citadel to sort out this mess. ETA to the Widow system is just a few hours." He tapped a button on the wall and the door slid open once more. "If anything else comes to mind, you know where to find me."

Shepard watched tentatively as the captain exited the room. "Sir," he called out, gaining the captain's attention once more. "I think we caught them with their pants down."

Anderson turned back to the commander and stood against the door frame. "Excuse me?"

"They left the Beacon, sir. They were going to blow it up with the rest of the colony, and they weren't expecting us to be there. I think they wanted it to look like some kind of accident, or a raid." Shepard stood from the table and adjusted his uniform in as dignified a manner as he could muster. "Whatever they were up to, we threw a wrench in the gears."

The captain stood contemplatively before speaking. "The first thing they hit was the colony's long-range comm relay." He resumed his exit. "Let's hope you're right, for our sakes."

With that the captain returned to his quarters, returning the infirmary to Dr. Chakwas, who seemed none too pleased with being kicked out of her own office as she returned. She sent the commander a glare when she saw him on his feet without being given a clean bill of health, but didn't press the issue given the circumstances. The good doctor was happy returning to her console and resuming her work without a word.

Shepard stood awkwardly for a while before speaking. "So…" he tried to break the ice. "Am I free to go?"

"I'm not sure," the doctor answered, maintaining focus on her console. "I believe that information is need-to-know."

He gave a sincere look of offense. "You know I didn't make that call, right?" He received no answer, left instead to stand in awkward silence. After another round of bitter quiet, he started to get concerned. "I _am_ going to be okay?"

The doctor gave him a look of death from her desk. "Get out of my infirmary, commander."

Shepard held his hands up in surrender and made for the door as quickly as he could walk. Evidently the doctor was not all too keen on being kept in the dark, a quality he had not observed during his time aboard _Normandy_. That much they shared in common, however it didn't seem advisable to be on the wrong side of that particular wrath. He fled into the mess to find it dimly lit and mostly empty, serving only Lieutenant Alenko and Chief Williams sitting silently at opposite ends of the room. A newsfeed was playing across one of the mess' screens, reporting on what little they knew about the events on Eden Prime. They hadn't decided upon a catchy yellow-journalism name this soon into the story, but Shepard's bets were on something condescending like "the Eden Prime Upset."

Kaidan gave a short, informal salute at seeing the commander up-and-about, before returning to his exchange with Williams across the room. "Told you," he said.

Williams stood respectfully and gave a more formal salute before standing at a tentative ease. "Commander," she greeted him as he approached.

Shepard returned the courtesy with a brief salute. "Chief," he responded. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Williams stood respectfully and diligently, but there was a good deal of weariness in her posture. "Captain Anderson requested my transfer to _Normandy_. They want me to file an official statement on what happened down there." She gave a weak smile, possibly false but more likely simply tired. "I've never been to the Citadel. I'd be looking forward to it if not for—well, you know. The circumstances."

He leaned against the table with one hand. "Yeah, speaking of those," he approached the subject delicately. "How are you holding up with, uhm—…_that_?"

"I'm dealing, sir," she answered nonchalantly.

"Alright, I suppose" Shepard nodded. "Carry on," he motioned between her and the Lieutenant before continuing toward the stairwell.

He took the stairs back into the familiar environment of the _Normandy's_ CIC, just as dimly lit as the rest of the ship with the orange glow of its arrays of readouts and consoles. The ship's holographic starmap quietly rotated at the center of the room, its image of the Milky Way almost a like a centerpiece. It was third shift by now. Aside from essential personnel and a few insomniacs, most of the crew seemed to have called it a night. Navigator Pressly was among the insomniacs as he stood dutifully at his station, failing to notice the commander's return with his attention gripped by what must have been a very interesting set of star charts.

Shepard returned to his post at Pressly's side, lightly jabbing him in the arm. "You bald bastard," he smiled.

Pressly jumped, but returned with a wide grin—the first happy response Shepard had received since he awoke. "Commander!" he grinned. "Good to see you back on your feet."

Shepard chuckled lightly and shook his head. "You jinxed it, Chuck." He opened his own console to find an unwelcoming pile of alerts and reports regarding Eden Prime. Most of them were relatively good news. Civilian casualties only numbered in the dozens. Military casualties weren't so hopeful.

Pressly looked mildly guilty at the accusation, however facetious it may have been. "Next time I'll keep my mouth shut," he conceded, returning to his star charts. The ship buckled once more, enough he suspected to wake up half of the crew. Pressly braced himself against his station until the turbulence passed and resumed his studies. "At least things are warming up in Siberia, right?"

"It's getting downright tropical."

###

The _Normandy_ shook violently as the mass relay gripped onto her hull and flung her across the galaxy. It didn't take long for Joker's senses to return to him. He had grown accustomed to the ship's handling during his time aboard. A relay jump aboard this vessel left most crewmen, including a certain executive officer, functionally incapacitated for a good thirty seconds. It would be a lie to say Joker never had trouble with the sensation of FTL travel, but he'd worked very hard to acclimate himself to whatever rigors or stresses life aboard a ship could throw at him and he was fairly certain he had overcome at least a dozen phobias that doctors hadn't even named yet.

In the blink of an eye the sparse, black field of stars outside the pilot's window was replaced by a bright, pale pink view of nebulous dust: the Widow system. Aside from the ship's destination, Widow was an empty system, consisting of only a single star within the larger Serpent Nebula. The nebula itself was something of an anomaly. It wasn't a stellar nursery and it wasn't the result of any stellar deaths, yet its gaseous pink and blue clouds never seemed to dissipate. It provided a particularly hazardous environment for ships entering its radius, disrupting most sensors and severely limiting visual range. The system was filled with navigation buoys to assist vessels on their approach, without which it would be incredibly easy to get very lost amidst the gas and debris. The downside, however, was the bottlenecking effect of the system's many arriving and departing vessels, forced to follow the same, single path.

Joker deftly navigated the system and its considerable traffic. For safety reasons, he disengaged the ship's stealth systems. The last thing the crew needed was a head-on collision with a freighter pilot who had forgotten the merits of old-fashioned visual identification. Plus, it was always nice for the one-of-a-kind ship to actually be _seen_ from time to time. There isn't much point in being the helmsman of a top-of-the-line vessel if you can't show it off when you make your way to the big city. If flame decals weren't against Alliance regulations, _Normandy_ could probably outclass a dreadnought in style.

Commander Shepard stepped onto the bridge, accompanied by Kaidan and the _Normandy's_ newest addition, Chief Williams. Shepard stood behind the pilot's seat, staring curiously out the forward viewports. Kaidan took his seat in the copilot's chair while Williams lingered in the corner of the small compartment, leaning against the hull and looking out the portside window. Shepard placed a hand on the back of Joker's seat and leaned forward.

"Give us the scenic view, yeah?" the commander asked almost excitedly.

Joker grinned and reduced the ship's speed, altering course slightly aft. "First time to the Citadel, huh?"

The trio nodded, Kaidan with a particularly wide-eyed look of curiosity. "I've heard the stories since I was a kid. Pretty sure most of them were crap."

"You'd be surprised," Joker smiled, adjusting the ship's course slightly and slowing to cruising speed. "Let's see all those tax dollars at work."

The bridge crew gathered around the port and forward windows as the _Normandy_ cut through the stellar fog and the station's silhouette came into view. To call the Citadel a station, of course, didn't do it justice. The colossal, lotus-shaped structure floating into view was nearly thirteen kilometers in diameter. Its five arms stretched outward another forty five kilometers from a central torus at its far end. Each arm, or "Ward" as they were called locally, held its own city on its inner surface. One Ward alone could give any city on Earth a run for its money, and the Citadel had five of them.

The crew looked out at the lotus-like structure growing ever closer with a mutual, slack-jawed awe. It was clear as they approached that the station had a sizeable population, judging by just how many ships were coming and going. Some of their fellow visitors flew in small freight carriers, while others donned military accoutrements in large and heavily armed vessels. The largest ship within view, which dwarfed the _Normandy_ easily, drew their attention once the stupefying amazement of the station itself subsided.

"Look at the size of that monster," Williams pointed toward the largest ship excitedly, thankfully distracted from recent events by the view. "Its main gun could tear a hole through any ship in the Alliance fleet."

"The _Destiny Ascension_," Kaidan noted from his station. "Biggest dreadnought in the Citadel fleet."

Joker scoffed loudly. "Yeah, well, size isn't everything."

Williams looked back toward the pilot with amusement. "A bit touchy on that point, are we?"

"I'm just saying. You need style, too," he commented, tapping one of the nearby consoles and opening a communications channel with the station. "Citadel control: this is _SSV Normandy_, Alliance Navy, requesting permission to dock."

A good half minute passed while the radio gave only silence. Eventually, a flanged and recognizably turian voice responded professionally. "_Acknowledged, Normandy. Please hold speed and heading, maintain respect for standard traffic regulations. Transferring you to an Alliance control officer now."_

"Copy that, control. Thanks for the warm welcome."

###

"With all due respect, captain," Ambassador Udina said, "this incident is enough of a mess without indulging your executive officer's delusions."

The human embassy was sparsely decorated along its angled, sterile white architecture. A large, open bay window looked out on the Citadel's Presidium, the inner torus section of the station and the home to its upper class. There was a lot of activity visible below as a plethora of people of all manner of species attended to matters both political and recreational, quiet and dignified but animated nonetheless. It was at the edge of this window in the Ambassador's office that the ground-team stood, including its newest addition, listening quietly as Ambassador Udina and Captain Anderson planned for the ensuing hearing on Eden Prime. The commander and the lieutenant bore more casual, unarmored uniforms. Williams, on the other hand, saw fit to wear her broken and battered armor from the previous day's encounter. The ambassador would have objected, but the advantages of visual rhetoric were undeniable.

Williams leaned over and spoke quietly to the commander. "Why is it that when someone says 'with all due respect,' they really mean 'kiss my ass?'"

Udina's hearing was evidently greater than the chief had anticipated given how he returned the comment with a scowl from across the room. "I believe you have caused enough damage for one week."

"It wasn't their fault!" Anderson interrupted loudly. "Saren is the one we need to be worried about, not them."

"And considering your prior history it's going to be difficult enough convincing them he was in any way responsible." Udina brought a cupped hand to his eyes and cleared his throat. "The Council has agreed to hear our accusations, but _not_ our request to join the investigation." He dropped his hands back to his side and resumed the appropriate dignitary's posture. "Saren is their top agent, captain. I hope your people can be more persuasive here than they were on the ground." He beckoned the captain with a condescending wave of his hand. "Come with me, Anderson. We have some materials to prepare."

Anderson reluctantly fell in line, speaking briefly to his subordinates before departing. "We'll meet you at the Presidum tower for the hearing within the hour, commander."

"Try not to be late this time," Udina scowled, practically dragging the captain by an invisible leash.

At that, the ambassador and the captain left the rest standing idly in the office. They each shared a few sideways glances to confirm that they were on the same page. They seemed to be, at least in regards to their mutual disdain for the ambassador. Shepard had seen this kind of proceeding before. Hell, he'd been at the center of his own. And if his instincts served him well, this did not bode well for Captain Anderson's career. Even setting aside everything else, a spectre casualty on his watch spelled 'desk job' in eight different languages, and Udina's manner seemed to reinforce that prospect.

Williams leaned against the railing overlooking the hustle and bustle of the Presidium. "And that's why I hate politicians," she muttered.

Shepard tilted his head toward the embassy's exit. "C'mon," he said. "Something tells me an hour isn't going to leave much time for sight-seeing in place this big."

He strode out through the embassy's halls and into the Presidium's commons with Kaidan and Williams following suit. Curved walkways lined a central canal that ran in a loop around the entire torus. The architecture was sterile white, angular and vertically-focused with patches of green flora lining a sizeable number of perfectly manicured terraces. Foot traffic was significant, but the Presidium was spacious enough that it would take a full-blown mob to impede travel.

There were more species here than any of them even knew existed. The familiar turians, of course, comprised a statistically significant chunk of the population. In addition, the cultured blue asari held an even greater share of the population (presumably due to their natural longevity) along with the short-lived and amphibian salarians. On occasion, a non-humanoid would come into view, but they were far less populous than the humanoid species. Kaidan distinctly remembered listening to Chakwas explain convergent evolution at him for a good two hours before _Normandy_ started its tour, but all he remembered about that particular conversation is that smart things tend to look relatively similar.

"It's like a zoo!" Williams observed, not considering whether the zoo's occupants could hear her.

Kaidan watched as a number of passersby threw suspicious glances their way for the comment. "Those aren't the words I would have used."

"You know what I mean," Williams corrected. "Usually aliens stick to their own worlds."

Kaidan saw fit for further admonishment. "You have _got_ to stop calling them 'aliens,' chief. You're going to start a riot."

"And what am I supposed to call them, sir?"

Shepard took both subordinates by the shoulders and dragged them in the direction of the embassy's reception on its main terrace. "You call them honored friends and thank them for not _blowing us up_ when we met," he said impatiently. The comment was particularly venomous from William's perspective, but it was hardly a time for insubordination. She opted to maintain a silent complacence and to make another mental note as she followed the officers toward the front desk.

Shepard approached the desk with his bickering subordinates in tow, addressing what he had assumed to be the receptionist. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

The woman behind the desk looked up from her small terminal. She was an asari, female as all asari seemed to be. "Yes? What can I help you with?" Her voice was diplomatic, but that could have just been the translator's doing.

The language barriers between species hadn't been solved _completely_, but they'd been mitigated to near irrelevance. Every human had several options for translators before leaving Earth. Civilians usually stuck to in-ear pieces. Military personnel had more advanced augmentations consisting of a small chip implanted near a nerve cluster somewhere beneath the lower ear, which communicated directly with standard translation software they had installed on their omnitool. The effect was an instantaneous—if not _entirely_ accurate—translation sent directly to the temporal lobe of the brain, perceived as language, voice and intuitively determined inflection as per the translation. It wasn't perfect. Volume of the simulated "voice" was a problem in older models, not accounting for distance and direction of the source. Even in newer models, the "original" speech is still audible, albeit quiet and muffled, and you can never quite account for facial expression, lip movement and body language.

For species like turians, the mandibles did well at hiding that flaw. Asari had no such luck, and aside from their scalps and their skin pigmentation they were about as close to human as you could get. This presented an "uncanny valley" effect between the two species arising from a slightly unsettling disparity between what is heard and what is seen. There had been a number of technological advances on that point, but with strict Alliance laws against cybernetics generally not permitting augmentations any further than skin-deep, nothing had come from them.

"Sir?" the asari repeated. "Can I help you with something?"

Shepard caught himself before he made a face of distaste. "Sorry," he bowed his head curtly. "Still not used to the translators."

"You get used to it," the asari smiled politely. "Is there something I can help you with, Commander Shepard?"

Shepard blinked, looking back to realize his compatriots had left him to resume their argument across the terrace. He turned back to the asari. "How do you know my name?" he whispered suspiciously.

Amused, the asari leaned forward and casually pointed at the patch across his jacket. LTCDR. SHEPARD, it read. "I work in the human embassy," she whispered back, playing along. "I can read English."

Shepard stared dumbly long enough for the asari's mirth to become painfully evident. "Right," he broke the silence, pointing a thumb back to the chief and the lieutenant. "My friends are new to the place. They could use directions to the Citadel Tower."

"But not you?" the Asari crooked a tattooed brow.

"No, I know _exactly_ where I'm going," he jested in an attempt to deflect his ignorance. "It's them that are having trouble."

Chuckling didn't quite translate, but the intent was clear. "Sure," the asari answered. "Well, tell your _friends_ that I'm not a tour-guide. _They_ can use Avina for directions."

"They're not really my friends," he noted as his subordinates' quarrel became audible even from the distance between them.

"That's good," the asari nodded sarcastically. "It'd be really embarrassing for you if they were."

"Yeah. What's, uhh-?" he began to ask. The asari merely pointed a finger to a nearby terminal as she returned her focus to her own computer. "Thanks," Shepard said quietly as he left her to her business. He was a stranger here, and this was a strange land indeed. He made his way toward the indicated terminal at a leisurely pace, but was mildly startled when it sprang to life with an androgynous, humanoid hologram glowing slightly purple.

"_Hello and welcome to the Citadel!" _it greeted itself with a downright disconcertingly cheery disposition. _"I'm Avina, your virtual guide. You are currently in:"_ It paused briefly and flickered. _"Human Embassy, Presidium level,"_ it elaborated in a blander, computerized tone. _"Would you like information on this location or directions to nearby landmarks?_"

Shepard found himself staring dumbly yet again. He could hear the asari snickering to herself, albeit in the strangeness of the translator's interpretation. "Oh don't you start," he turned back, the smirk betraying the harshness of his words. "I know where you work, lady."

"And I know your boss!" the asari shouted back.

"Touché," he conceded, turning back to the hologram. "What are you, an AI?" he started before realizing he had just asked a deeply personal question to what amounted to an automated information kiosk.

"_Citadel law strictly prohibits the development or application of artificial intelligence. I am a simple virtual intelligence, colloquially known as a VI, programmed with limited responses to common-"_

"I get it," Shepard interrupted. "How can I get to the central tower from here?" he asked slowly and precisely.

"_Hours for tours of the Council offices have currently expired. The next tour group will depart at 4:15am Earth Standard Time."_

"For Christ's sakes," he cursed to himself. "I've got to attend a hearing, not a tour."

"_I'm sorry. I do not have a response for that inquiry."_

The commander rubbed the bridge of his nose with one two fingers, resting his other hand on his hip in a visually frustrated gesture he was sure the asari receptionist would find amusing. "How do I get there from here _tomorrow morning_?"

"_You may take the pavilion to your left for approximately 0.4 kilometers, turn right at the marketplace and await the tour group at the security checkpoint,"_ it answered politely. _"Would you like to review security regulations and protocols of your Council tour?"_

"No," he answered curtly as he turned away from the machine, which made a short, insincere farewell before flickering out. The asari had been watching curiously, but quickly refocused on her monitor as he passed by. His would-be compatriots had somehow moved on from politically correct terminology for non-human sapient species by the time he was within earshot of them and were civilly discussing the finer points of interspecies political relations like mature adults.

"With all due respect, you're an apologist, sir," Chief Williams commented maturely.

"Come the hell on, Williams," Kaidan retorted with equal tact. "Look around. A place this big with this many people, it's no wonder they're worried about newcomers."

"Hey!" Shepard interrupted. The argument fell to silence as the two returned their attention to the commander. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding." He wasn't sorry. "We have some very important business to attend if it's not too much trouble." Williams stood quietly for her part. Kaidan simply nodded.

"Lead the way, commander," the lieutenant said.

###

Detective Garrus Vakarian paced impatiently at the entrance to the Council chambers, mandibles held loosely against his jaw. They weren't so much chambers as a large auditorium, but he wasn't the one who named those sorts of things. He'd heard a charming phrase from some of the human officers on the station: "fashionably late." He'd heard it used to describe Executor Pallin—what passed for his boss at this point—and he wasn't inclined to disagree. Pallin was more politician than police. He couldn't exactly blame the man. This was no ordinary place; it was the political center of the galaxy. One would expect the highest ranking member of the local police force to play the game. Even still, while people like Garrus were out getting shot at in the slums, the good executor was too busy shaking hands with the movers and shakers here in the Presidium to keep a tight schedule. It didn't seem right. A lot of people back home had lectured the detective on the merits of being turian. At least _he_ was punctual.

The executor's fringe must have been burning, because he strutted into view just as the detective's thoughts turned to him. They made eye contact from across the small pavilion, much to the executor's annoyance. Garrus didn't care. He strode toward the man with little regard to proper posture, hands clenched at his sides and head swung low. "You're late," he said.

"And nobody asked you to be here," Pallin replied, maintaining his pace.

Garrus marched alongside. "This was my assignment. You can't just shut it down a day later."

"I can and I have," Pallin affirmed, keeping his eyes forward. "If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with your superior."

"You _are_ my superior," Garrus took the executor by the shoulder aggressively, stopping his march toward the chamber.

"And I'll be sure your concern is noted." Pallin stepped back, shrugging the detective's grip. "Look, Garrus. You didn't find anything and we both know you never will."

'Bullshit,' 'screw you,' and 'I quit' were all things Garrus wanted to say but couldn't. "I've got a lead down in the wards. A clinic on Zakera. If you give me twelve hours—"

"In twelve hours, everyone involved will be back on their homeworld sipping whatever they drink on Earth," the executor interrupted. "You've been around long enough to know this by now, Garrus. The humans like to slander. Hell, this isn't even the first time they've drummed up charges against Saren."

"Six hours," Garrus pleaded to no result.

The turians' conversation was interrupted by the shrill sound of human voices; a trio of them coming up the pavilion. Pallin could guess what they were here for, and he wasn't keen on speaking to them. He leaned close to the detective, turning away from the direction of the interlopers. "I'm filing the report and then I'm getting back to doing real work. Find yourself a nice, quiet bar and get over it."

Dejected, Garrus remained as the executor saw himself to whatever Council representative was meant to sign off on the case. He watched the humans make their way toward the chamber, animatedly discussing what seemed to be some topic of irrelevance. Maybe the executor was right about them. The detective never liked playing things by the gut. A cop with a vendetta could find evidence for just about anything—that was true of every world. Justice wasn't met by crooked courts, but that fact went both ways. Saren had too many black bars weighing down his records, too many redactions even for a spectre. A lot of bad decisions had been made by people who relied on instincts alone, and Garrus couldn't help but wonder if he was going to be one of those people.

He approached the humans as they drew close, zeroing in on their leader with an outstretched hand. "Commander Shepard?"

The group stopped in their tracks, the commander looking suspiciously at the claw held out in front of him. He glanced up to its turian owner, who didn't seem hostile, and carefully shook his hand. "And you are?"

"Garrus Vakarian," the detective introduced himself. "I was the officer assigned to the Saren Arterius investigation."

The female human of the group seemed even less eager to be talking with a turian than the commander. At least, Garrus was fairly sure she was female. Xenobiology wasn't exactly his best subject at the academy. He wasn't sure how to tell without the plates. "You _were_ the investigator?" she asked nonplussed.

"They just delivered the report. I imagine it will be signed and stamped moments after you leave." He stood more respectfully than he had with Pallin. "_Officially_, it's over."

"The bodies aren't even cold," Kaidan added, much to the chief's surprise that they would actually be thinking the same thing.

"I said _officially,_" Garrus interrupted. "I've got a few leads. Not very promising, but it's something."

The commander crossed his arms after briefly checking for any cuts on his hand from the turian's talons, finding none to his relief. "That's not exactly comforting."

"Look, I'm not here to argue," Garrus returned the gesture with what was proving to be the turian equivalent, shoulders straight and hands clasped. "I just want you to know not everyone's ready to call it in just yet." He motioned his head toward the Council chamber and stepped aside. "I think they're waiting for you."

The detective remained, watching the humans take the same path forward as the executor. They didn't seem reassured by his involvement. Then again, it wasn't about them. He found himself pacing once more. He wasn't some loose cannon. He liked the book. He understood why the book was written, and he especially enjoyed throwing the book at people. The ones who made the rules were smart people; they were damned good people. They were not, however, fortune tellers. They couldn't foresee every contingency. Maybe that was the same rationalization that every criminal had ever told themselves to justify going off-book, but it still seemed rational.

The hearing was already underway, judging by the muffled echoes bouncing through the tower. Distracted by the debate racing through his mind, Garrus found himself wandering the tower's halls, flashing his credentials to a different branch of security every few steps. He strode alongside offices of staff, each one handling a dozen cases like his with remarkably little urgency. A few hundred people get wiped out in an afternoon's time, but in a galaxy of several trillion. This was a place of statistics, data and numbers. Nothing short of total annihilation could get them out of their chairs.

He walked out onto the balcony overlooking the hearing chamber, alongside a handful of onlookers who were likely only interested so they could write a few sentences about it in their dissertations. The humans stood upon a small, paneled outcropping below the Council's much larger and higher platform. They probably didn't even know who they were talking to. Garrus did. You couldn't live on the Citadel and not recognize the Council in action.

The turian councilor, Sparatus, stood left. He was their voice of quick, decisive action. It was ironic, because leaving the Hierarchy to serve on an inter-species board wasn't exactly considered a loyal move. He was an honored representative of the turian people, of course, but there were plenty of whispers back home about the ones who left the service for such a 'higher calling.' It had been a while since Garrus had completed his compulsory service, but he remembered the jokes they had about the last turian councilor back in basic. He imagined they were saying the same things about this one.

The asari councilor, Tevos, stood in the middle. She was a voice of wisdom from on-high, as it were. There were plenty of stereotypes about the asari. They were monogendered, analogous to female in most other species. People tended to assume things about asari. They didn't assume those things of Tevos. Even other species respected the consul of an asari so close to becoming a Matriarch. Hell, earning the title meant you'd outlived just about everyone you'd ever met by a good eight centuries or-so. Whether she had some special wisdom was debatable, but she'd been around for centuries. Natural lifespans aside, most asari don't last that long. Disease, famine or bullets—something usually catches them before age has anything to say about it. The fact that she was still here had to count for something.

The salarian councilor Valern, standing right, was quite the opposite of his colleagues on two levels. While Tevos had ripened to an age measured in centuries, Valern would be lucky to hit forty. Salarians had naturally high metabolisms. Their candle was lit at both ends, and his shone twice as bright. What he lacked in lifespan, he more than made up for in intellect. Where Sparatus would be quick to recommend action, Valern would watch and wait in careful contemplation. It was ironic, given he had who knows how many different items on his docket that would only get decided when his successor's successor was on the bench. It was entirely possible he was just bad at making decisions.

So it had been—this configuration of species presiding over the others—since the turians made a name for themselves so long ago. Tevos probably remembered a time when it was different. She was the only one. The human ambassador seemed to have the same thought, frustrated as he was. Things weren't going his way, and that was to be expected. The Council hadn't dismissed the allegations against Saren, though they'd done everything but.

"The testimony of one traumatized dockworker is far from compelling evidence," Valern asserted.

"It isn't the _only_ evidence, councilors," Udina added from his place well and far below. "The preliminary autopsy matches Nihlus' wound to a weapon you yourself told us Saren favors."

"First of all, that was an autopsy on a _turian_ conducted by _humans_," Sparatus interrupted. "An autopsy, mind you, we should have been conducting. Second, the weapon in question is one of a very wide range of weapons produced by a manufacturer that sells arms to every Council species, including _yours_." He leaned against his podium, digging his talons into its edge. "_Not compelling_."

"I am inclined to agree with him, ambassador," Tevos said. "This is all circumstantial. Unless you have something else to bring to the table, we have nothing more to discuss."

Udina wracked his mind at the thought. It wasn't exactly an ace in the hole, more like a measure of last resort. "Captain Anderson's ground team made direct contact with the artifact on the surface," he reluctantly added. "I believe they may have more to say."

"Very well," Tevos agreed. "See them in."

Garrus watched from above as Udina stepped away from the platform to the edge of the room, whispering to a nearby aide. Shortly thereafter, Captain Anderson entered the chamber from the far side, Commander Shepard and company following suit, and approached the platform with Udina. The five of them stood at attention, Udina maintaining a more relaxed posture.

"Captain David Anderson," Tevos began, "you were in command of the _SSV Normandy_ during the incident on Eden Prime?"

There was that word again—_incident_. "Yes," Anderson answered.

"And this was your team on the ground?" she continued, motioning to the three soldiers standing nearby.

"Two of them, councilor," he clarified. "Gunnery Chief Williams was already stationed planetside with the 212th Battalion."

"Please clarify that, Captain," Valern interjected.

"The 212's chain of command had collapsed by the time we arrived," he explained. "Chief Williams was the highest ranking and only member of the battalion we made contact with. She was not strictly under my command, but she deferred to Commander Shepard as the ranking officer on the scene."

"And you are Commander Shepard?" Tevos looked to the man standing at the captain's side.

They'd considered him for the most prestigious branch of service in their government and they didn't know his face? Maybe they were just being polite. "I am," the commander stepped forward.

"According to your report, you had some kind of episode when you found the artifact," Sparatus said. "Is this true?"

"That wouldn't be my choice of words," Shepard noted, "but yes."

"Please describe your experience."

"I don't know how to, councilor," he admitted. "I'm told I was levitating, if that helps."

Tevos motioned to the chief and the lieutenant. "You two can attest to this?"

"I was preoccupied at the moment, councilors," Kaidan declined.

Williams stepped forward. "I can attest to it," she said confidently.

Sparatus was unimpressed. "Yes. Chief Williams, was it?" he asked, browsing through the electronic files on his podium. "It says here you were also the one who _shot_ the thousands-year-old artifact."

She looked to the captain, receiving a glare and a subtle shake of the head in return. "I made a decision in the field," she answered. "I stand by it."

Sparatus resumed. "Will you stand by it when I tell you the minimum sentencing for the destruction of prothean technology?" He scoffed at her. "To think we were actually considering making one of you a spectre."

Williams gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. Thankfully, Udina stepped in. "That is not the purpose of this hearing, Councilor!" he shouted.

Tevos waved a hand to her turian colleague. "The ambassador is right. This hearing is about Saren's alleged involvement in the death of Nihlus Kryik." She returned focus to Shepard. "Commander, did you glean anything about the artifact that could shed light on Saren's possible motive?"

Shepard swallowed hard. "I had a vision," he answered.

Sparatus raised a plated brow, his mandibles twitching. "A _vision_?"

"Like some kind of message," Shepard corrected himself. "It's not entirely clear, but it had the protheans scared."

The turian turned to his asari counterpart, shaking his head in disbelief. "Do you expect us to admit _visions_ into evidence, commander?"

"Well you haven't admitted anything else, so it'd be a start." Shepard stepped forward once more.

Councilor Tevos raised her hands between the two in an attempt to defuse the situation. "I can't speak for my fellow councilors but, when this Council was introduced to humanity, I did my research," she said. "Are you familiar with a man named Thomas Hobbes, commander?"

"Was he a stuffed tiger?" Shepard answered disparagingly.

The asari brushed off the undiplomatic retort. His answer was irrelevant. Her question was rhetorical. "Forgive me if I'm misrepresenting him, but I believe he said something to the effect of: 'if a man tells you he has spoken to God, to deny him is not a disbelief in God but a disbelief in the man speaking for God.'"

Shepard turned to his captain in a whisper. "Did she just reference human philosophy at me?" The captain was unamused.

Kaidan piped in from behind. "It's from _Leviathan_."

"The point being," Tevos continued, "it's not a matter of whether we believe this device imparted some kind of 'message' to you. It's a matter of whether or not you are correct in your interpretation of that message." Sparatus attempted to add his two cents, but she persisted before he had a chance to speak. "We don't know if you're telling the truth. If you are, we don't know what you saw. If we did, we don't know if it has anything to do with Saren."

"So that's it?" he asked. "You're going to misquote a human who's been dead for centuries and send us packing?"

Councilor Sparatus answered for his colleague. "An official investigation into the charges levied here was already underway before this hearing, and it will continue regardless of your theatrics." He returned to his dignified stance, chin held high. "We are not obliged to undertake anything further."

Tevos raised a hand and shot a quick glance to the turian. "I believe what he _means_ to say is that we are already doing everything in our power to address this incident." She bowed her head formally as Sparatus quietly tapped his terminal, dimming the lights above the ground team. "We express sincere gratitude for your testimony. This hearing is adjourned." They didn't have a long hook to pull the team off-stage but, with all her research into human culture, they'd probably invest soon enough.

Garrus watched as the humans were escorted out of the chamber by security. This wasn't right. If this had been about some duct-rat with a rap sheet or some smuggler bringing in narcotics, they would have taken the eye witness and the autopsy and sent the suspect to the smallest, darkest hole they could find. Saren had a longer resume than any criminal in their records. He had the means and the skills to perpetrate the crime and it was no secret he didn't like humans. Means, motive and opportunity translated into every language. They were protecting him—that much was obvious. Right or wrong about him, they didn't want the poster-boy for the long arm of galactic law being accused of war crimes.

The more he saw, the more Garrus was sure: Saren Arterius was a traitor and this wasn't about some pissant little human colony in the ass-end of nowhere. He had a plan in play, and it wasn't over at Eden Prime. The detective didn't need to see any more of the bureaucracy to know it wouldn't do the job. He had a date at a clinic in a few hours and he wasn't going to be late.


	4. Chapter 3

Zakera

"_Leviathan?_" Shepard asked as the group exited the Council chambers. "Really, Kaidan?"

"I like philosophy," Kaidan rebuffed the admonishment. "At least _one_ of us knew what she was talking about." The group stopped in a quiet corner of the pavilion. "It'd be pretty embarrassing if the asari was the only person in the room who knew Hobbes."

Shepard joined in with the others as they relaxed around a small, decorative fountain adorning the walkway. "See? It's the attitude I don't like." He had meant for that comment to illicit a few polite-if-insincere chuckles. Nobody was laughing. Instead, they stood quiet and dejected, focusing intimately on their own feet.

Udina sighed. "Once they clear Saren, they're going to try and pin it on you," he said, gently nodding his head toward Captain Anderson.

"I know," the captain agreed. "It's not like they haven't done it before."

"Bullshit," Williams spoke up. "Why would we attack our own colony?"

"This isn't about the colony. It never was," Udina said more forcefully. "They don't give a rat's ass about Eden Prime. This is about laying their dead spectre's corpse at someone's feet."

Williams shook her head and scuffed her feet. "Typical," she muttered.

"Tell me about it," Udina responded in kind. It was an unexpectedly human gesture from the man. She still hated politicians, of course, but maybe Udina wasn't the worst of them.

"So we find more evidence," Kaidan suggested optimistically, "something that implicates Saren."

Udina laughed maliciously. "Yes, just let me consult my crystal ball."

Kaidan ignored the ambassador, appealing to the captain instead. "Sir, we spoke to a C-Sec investigator on our way over here," he explained. "Garrus was his name, I think. He said he had leads they weren't letting him pursue."

Shepard rubbed the bridge of his nose with an expression of distaste. "I really hate to be the one agreeing with Williams, but do we really need another turian on this?" Two people in one day? Williams wondered if this was some kind of elaborate joke.

She nodded in agreement with the commander. "So what, we go down to the station and just ask for the whereabouts of one of their detectives?" she asked. "That'll be inconspicuous," she rolled her eyes.

"They couldn't tell you if they wanted to," Udina added. "If the investigation is over and the man's still investigating, he's gone AWOL. Telling us about it would make them look bad."

"It's _something_, at least," Kaidan asserted. "And it's all we've got to go on."

"It's _nothing_ unless you can find him, and even then—running an unapproved investigation is tantamount to vigilantism. The legal and political ramifications are unthinkable." Udina stood in quiet contemplation for a moment, stroking his jaw briefly before raising his chin and puffing out his chest. "As a representative aboard this station, I cannot allow you to take any rash course of action which may endanger relations between the Council and humanity." His words were strict and harsh. "Under _no_ circumstances are you to question Officer Harkin," he said firmly, almost letting a smirk slip through his scowl. He saw their blinks of confusion, but doubted they were so dim as to miss the message. "I'll be in my office, captain," he nodded to Anderson before quickly departing.

They stood in disbelief as the ambassador departed. "I'm lost," Shepard said once the man was out of sight. "Who's Harkin, again?" Williams merely shrugged in response. Kaidan seemed no better off.

Captain Anderson was not so dumbfounded. "Officer James Harkin," he said, leaning backward with his hands across the edge of the fountain. "He was the first human C-Sec officer on the station. He's a big name around here."

"I'm sensing a 'but' in there," Williams commented.

Anderson was not amused. "_But_ he got suspended a while ago. Drinking on the job. Still spends most of his time in a bar down on Zakera Ward. Chora's Den."

"Sets a fine example to the other races," Kaidan said.

"He's been the subject of a _lot_ of gossip around here," Anderson explained. "Word is he's still got a few human contacts in C-Sec."

"So, Udina wants us to go question him, see if he knows where we can find the turian?" Williams asked.

Shepard smirked to himself. "Udina wants to be as far away from this as possible. Plausible deniability."

"He's right," Anderson added. "If someone gets in trouble, it can't lead back to an ambassador. The man might be an ass, but he's humanity's foot in the door."

Kaidan started to regret his suggestion. "So we're going off-book, sir?"

Anderson nodded, much more direct in his schemes than Udina. "I'll see if I can find anything on this detective through proper channels," he said. "You understand I can't _order_ you to do anything with this information."

The trio exchanged glances. Kaidan was apprehensive, but willing. Williams, on the other hand, could barely contain her grin. Shepard nodded to the captain. "We'll see what we can find."

Anderson stood away from his perch at the fountain's edge, speaking quietly and deliberately. "A word of caution: Zakera Ward isn't as welcoming as the Presidium." He backed away and gave an informal salute before departing, which the trio returned in kind. "Watch your step," he said before departing for the embassy at a brisk pace.

Shepard glanced at Williams, who was too preoccupied being giddy to notice. She was still wearing her battered combat armor, scorched and stained from the previous day's events. Visual rhetoric clearly hadn't helped. He jabbed her lightly in the side with his elbow to get her attention. "You planning on wearing that to a bar?"

She looked down at her dented and broken armor and back up to the commander with a sarcastic smirk. "Too subtle?"

###

Zakera Ward was a far cry from the sheen, pristine Presidium. The halls were smaller and more crowded, filled with the same species at their least affluent. The décor was neon commercialism and urban decay, nearly every corner and bay adorned with a worn-down, often broken taxi terminal like the one the team had used to secure transportation into the district. Zakera was a big place, and Chora's Den was near to its lowest levels. The flickering lights and occasional jolt of machinery kicking in were reminiscent of the _Normandy_'s own homely charm, albeit even less welcoming. Among the species that wandered the halls were short, stout spider-like creatures in great abundance, seemingly unaware of the station's other inhabitants.

Avina had been kind enough to explain their presence during the ride in the taxi in spite of Shepard's attempts to shut her up. They were called keepers: a strange amalgam of biology and technology that had occupied the station before its discovery. According to the VI, the keepers were engineered by the Citadel's prothean architects as subservient race of dwellers that maintained the station and ensured its operation. Little more was known about them. They were completely docile, but attempts to interrupt their work or otherwise haul one away for study triggered some manner of self-termination leaving nothing but a lifeless, inert husk which would later be replaced by another from somewhere in depths of the station. It wasn't known whether they were of a finite number, or if they bred or were manufactured somewhere on the station. All the VI could say was that they were harmless and to interfere with their business or to destroy one was a class-two misdemeanor.

Shepard pondered one of the creatures standing within a small alcove as the team stepped out of their cab and watched it gracefully zip away toward the distant edge of the ward. The little green quadruped was fiddling with a nearby panel using a pair of dexterous hands jutting out of its carapace. Its purpose was a mystery to everyone, he supposed. He'd seen stranger things in the galaxy, and he'd only been in a few of its many corners. Even so, he briefly entertained the notion of careful prodding as a primitive study. A misdemeanor, however, was the last thing he needed at the moment.

They had returned to the ship to change into more inconspicuous civilian attire before departing to Zakera, each with a sidearm concealed under light, unmarked field jackets. Technically they weren't supposed to be armed on the station but, given the nature of their visit, the most a possession charge could get them was deportation. Besides, there were bigger problems to be worried about if they ever had to brandish the weapons. Kaidan had been vocally displeased by that logic, but didn't argue so much as to walk into the district unarmed.

The trio waded through the crowds of diverse foot-traffic as they made their way to Chora's Den, occasionally stopping to 'act casual' when a C-Sec officer came into view. 'Casual' wasn't exactly in Williams' repertoire. The chief wasn't sure if the strategy was real or for Shepard's personal amusement. He'd been the only one with any training in covert operations, but he was also the only one smiling when she was sure she'd been absolutely conspicuous in her attempts.

Eventually they wandered into a large market district lined with kiosks, restaurants and clubs. Thumping bass and pulsing lights were emanating from around more than one corner while merchants of all varieties peddled their wares. The occasional merchant would approach them, only to be shoved away with less-than-polite words. Williams had even flashed the handle of her weapon a few times to get the message across, despite Shepard's very specific orders against it. They passed by a turian and an asari in a heated argument, their dialects too obscure for their translators to handle. What they saw looked like a lover's quarrel—a thought that raised far too many awkward questions.

Across the market and through a snaking series of back-alleys and hallways laid Chora's Den, the subtlety of its entrance flush against a grimy metal wall betrayed by its glowing neon iconography in some illegible alien language and a silhouetted image of asari leaning casually against the edge of the logo. By the looks of it, this place wasn't even supposed to be here, but Zakera was too big a place for law enforcement to hunt down every forged permit and fire-code violation. The trio crossed the alley and stood at the entrance to the bar, its music clearly audible even through its thick bulkhead walls amidst the sound of skycars passing above and sewage flowing somewhere below.

The team stood at the door's threshold, exchanging looks somewhere between tentativeness and determination. "Anything from the captain?" Shepard asked.

Kaidan shook his head. "Not a word," he answered.

"Last chance to turn back," the commander said ruefully.

Williams returned the offer with a smile. "Not a chance in hell, sir."

"If we had _any_ other options," Kaidan said, his words trailing off before he could finish the thought. He sighed to himself and pulled his jacket straight by the collar. "Let's do it."

Shepard almost wished someone had asked him what he thought, but there _were_ no other options. Content with their answers, he pushed through the bar's doors and into its flashy, loud interior, followed by the others. They were hit by a near-deafening wave of rhythmic bass and flashing lights the moment they entered. It was a rounded room, tables, booths and poles lined its outer edge with a circular bar at its center. There were a number of half-nude asari dancing for patrons of various species scattered throughout the room and one in particular strutting across the central bar's awning, but it was by no means crowded judging by the number of empty seats. In addition to the live entertainment, a few holographic projectors played loops of less corporeal dancers for more esoteric tastes—a few species Shepard had never even heard of and even one featuring what appeared to be a hacked Avina program. Who in their right mind would pay for that wasn't a question he ever wanted answered.

"A couple thousand lightyears from the cradle of civilization," Williams said, "and we end up in a bar filled with men drooling over half-naked women shaking their asses." She did not seem fond of the venue as they briefly scoped the place out. "Should I be laughing or weeping?"

"You never know," Kaidan said. "They could just really like the food."

They followed Shepard to the bar as he motioned to the server for a drink. The girl behind the counter smiled and poured a glass of something that strongly resembled antifreeze. Shepard took the glass and smiled back insincerely, carefully examining what couldn't have been a healthy substance in his hand as she turned back to the other patrons. He looked around before he realized his unfortunate ignorance. "We don't know what Harkin looks like," he muttered to his cohorts.

"He's human," Kaidan added unhelpfully.

"So, what?" Williams asked. "Do we just start shouting his name and wait for whoever answers?"

Before any further wit could be dispensed, their attention was drawn to a quickly escalating dispute between two large, reptilian-looking humanoids across the room. "Krogan," Kaidan quietly informed. One of the krogan, a deep red plate running across his scalp and fading into his matching red hardsuit,, seemed to be attempting to force his way into the establishment's back-rooms, while another krogan with green plates denied him entry.

"Last warning, Wrex," the green one shoved the other back, "or C-Sec's only going to have a corpse by the time they get here."

The red one, Wrex, didn't back down at the threat. "You tell him," he snarled through crooked and sharp teeth, voice deep and cracked though surprisingly casual, "one way or the other, I _will_ kill him." The green one pulled a weapon from his back and took aim from his hip. Wrex paid the threat no attention. "You hear me in there?!" he shouted toward the door. "You'll need more than this!" he waved a dismissive hand toward the other krogan.

A human hand found its way onto Wrex's considerable shoulder. "Buddy," the human, bald and dressed in a stained blue jumper, beckoned the brute. "You and I both know this isn't how it goes down." Wrex gave no answer, merely passing a skeptical eye toward the human while focusing primarily on the other krogan. "You're not looking for a blaze of glory," he smiled. "You're looking for a paycheck, and you don't get one if you're dead."

A pair of C-Sec officers—human—entered the bar, quickly surveying the scene and brandishing their weapons at the sight. Shepard and company quietly slipped to the other side of the bar, hoping they wouldn't draw attention. The officers yelled for both krogan to stand down as the human merely backed away with his hands behind his head. "Don't be a stereotype" the bald human laughed quietly to the krogan. Wrex sized the officers up with a quick glance. He didn't seem to be intimidated by them in the least, but he and the other krogan complied with their demands as they were escorted out of the bar peacefully. The other human exchanged a few words with one of the officers, with whom he seemed to have a repertoire, and was left free to return to his patronage at one of the rear tables.

The team watched as the scene concluded. Shepard leaned back to his fellows. "Dollars to donuts that's our guy," he said under his breath.

"Good-Cop, Bad-Cop?" Williams asked.

"I don't think that works on actual cops," Kaidan answered.

"What about Bad-Cop, Worse-Cop?" the chief insisted.

Shepard led the team to the balding man's table. "Just let me do the talking," he ordered, much to Williams' disappointment. Shepard casually approached the table, pulled a chair and sat facing the balding human, who returned the gesture with something between a glare and a look of confusion. Kaidan and Williams remained standing behind the commander, trying to maintain a professionally intimidating façade.

"Do I know you?" the man asked impatiently over the bar's pounding bass.

"No, but I know you," Shepard answered with an indiscrete tone. "Harkin, right?"

"And that makes you?"

"An interested party," Shepard said with a straight face. The chief was certain he'd stolen that line from an old vid. "My associates and I are looking for some information. We were told you're our man."

Harkin didn't take the remark well, judging by the growing scowl. "Whoever told you that was lying."

Williams thought this would have been an excellent time for Bad-Cop, but Shepard maintained a calm face as she stood silently behind. "We're looking for a C-Sec officer," the commander said.

"And I'm looking for a 401k," Harkin dismissed the man's questioning.

Williams leaned against the table. "You might still have one if you hadn't—" she started before trailing off when confronted by more than one look of disapproval.

"We can't pay you," Shepard pulled the exchange back on-course. "But we _can_ put in a good word with C-Sec if you give us what we need."

Harkin chortled and nearly spilled his drink. "You think I give a damn what C-Sec thinks anymore?" He waved his glass around the room. "Look around!" he chuckled disparagingly. "I've got twice the life here as I did at the academy!"

Kaidan glanced between the liquor, strippers and disheveled patrons. "It's certainly _dignified_," he remarked.

"Being that as it may," Shepard continued, "I don't think you want a suspension to turn into something worse. A good word might just help."

Harkin sighed and took a swig of what little in his glass he hadn't splashed across the floor, gritting his teeth as it burned his throat. "You people look fresh off the boat," he said after a hearty cough. "You don't have that kind of pull."

"We _will_," said the commander, "when you help us find Garrus Vakarian."

Harkin stopped at the mention of the name, glancing between the commander and his compatriots. A wry smile crossed his face. "I _do_ know you," he smirked. "Yeah, you're Anderson's little protégé." He slammed his glass down on the table and motioned to the bartender, maintaining eye-contact with the commander. "Heard you fucked up big-time out near the Traverse."

"You heard wrong," Williams chimed in despite the ensuing glares she would receive.

"Saw you on the news, too," Harkin turned to the chief. "Ran away and left your people to die, right?" Her blood seared at the accusation, but within two steps Alenko stopped what would have descended into fisticuffs. Harkin continued unabated. "You know, C-Sec's got access to low-level spectre dossiers. They do the vetting on candidates," he explained as a waitress brought him a fresh drink. "You want to know why they've got a file on your captain?"

"I _want_ to know where I can find Garrus Vakarian," Shepard said, his patience dwindling.

Harkin smirked as he took another sip. "You're not the first human to get considered." He leaned back in his chair, resting his glass in the crook of a crossed arm. "All the other candidates fucked it up almost as bad as you did."

Shepard gripped the edge of the table in an attempt to control himself. "Garrus Vakarian," he punctuated each syllable with equal parts impatience and disdain.

"Between you and me, I feel for the old man. Says he was framed. I said the same goddamn thing." Harkin nodded knowingly. "Last I heard, Garrus went off the reservation checking out a clinic a few blocks from here. Something about a patient they had looking for asylum or the likes." He finished another glass, slamming it back down on the table. "Now walk away, kids."

Shepard stood and directed his company away from the table. "If this doesn't check out," he said before departing, "I will be coming back for you."

Harkin chuckled. "Trust me; I won't be here when _you_ come back."

###

Garrus leaned against the clinic's outer wall. He'd been surveying foot-traffic in and out for a good thirty minutes before he'd even think about stepping foot inside. Every investigation works in stages: surveillance, confrontation and apprehension. The moment a detective steps in the front door is the moment potential suspects know he's investigating. It rarely hurts for an investigation to be visible but, in the few occasions it does, it tends to be fatal. The stakes of this particular investigation were significantly higher than the standard fare. Saren had contacts and connections. If he really was willing to wipe out a colony, he wouldn't bat an eye at killing a nosy cop.

Despite Zakera's population density, the clinic seemed to have few incoming patients. Then again, preliminary research indicated the word 'understaffed' was an understatement. The place was struggling to stay afloat. It was a small clinic with little in the way of supplies, and what little it had in supply was frequently stolen by the locals. The break-ins turned violent every now and again, and most of the doctors quit and went to the Presidium. Only one real doctor remained, assisted by a handful of practitioners from time to time who came and went.

Content with his surveillance, Garrus entered the clinic. The floor-plan in C-Sec's files didn't do the place justice. It barely had any standing-room. Crates of supply shipments lined the walls, many of them having been visibly pried open and looted. What few beds the clinic had were visible behind its front desk, staffed by one lone human woman so preoccupied with a stack of files that she didn't see the detective enter.

"Dr. Michel?" Garrus said, approaching the desk and its lone attendant.

The good doctor jumped slightly in surprise, gripping the files in her hands as though her life depended on it. "Yes? I'm sorry?" she said nervously.

Garrus attempted to be as disarmingly calm as he could, though turians had always been more than a little intimidating to humans since Relay 314. "I'm Detective Vakarian," he introduced himself, briefly flashing his credentials before returning them to a small pocket dug into his blue armor. "I'm conducting an investigation and I'd like to ask you a few questions if it's not too much trouble."

"Sorry, yes," Dr. Michel apologized again. Humans apologized too much. Turians didn't apologize at all. It was disconcerting. "What are you investigating again?" she asked, still hurriedly sifting though files on a half dozen different datapads.

"You had a patient recently—a quarian, correct?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized once more. "I can't really talk about that. I've got a few emergencies right now. You should go." She couldn't seem to decide which excuse to use and, judging by the otherwise empty clinic, one of them was a lie.

"I understand doctor-patient privilege, ma'am," Garrus neglected to leave. "It is, however, very important that I speak to your patient."

The doctor didn't back down. "I really can't right now. It's just—" she tried to say before being interrupted by a pounding at the front door. The door's opaque glass betrayed three dark figures issuing muffled threats, at least one of which was armed. The doctor turned to the detective in a panic. "You need to hide!" she said in quiet distress.

Garrus normally wasn't one to go cowering in a corner, but a confrontation was the last thing he needed right now, especially granting he was off-book. He drew his weapon and hopped over to the other side of the desk, taking cover in one of the empty patient alcoves. "I'll be right here, doctor," he muttered back, pistol at the ready.

The interlopers broke the clinic's glass doors and burst inside—three visibly armed humans. The doors weren't locked—they were trying to terrorize. The doctor fled to the back wall, throwing her files to Garrus' end of the room before raising her hands toward the ceiling. "I already paid you this month, I told you!" the doctor pleaded. For someone so nervous, she didn't once give away the detective's position—not even a glance. Sometimes the unlikeliest people had ice in their veins.

"Sorry, doc. Not here for that," one of the assailants said. Garrus recognized the sound of a human voice and, judging by the sounds of their gait, the others were human as well. He could see their leader around the corner of his cover. A pistol rested openly the human's hip, no doubt illegally obtained. Unfortunately, regulations for off-duty C-Sec personnel were unduly strict. Garrus could have swooped in, but the bureaucracy would have his head on a pike. Standard self-defense laws tied his hands when he wasn't on sanctioned business, and those laws said he needed an immediate threat before acting. He should have waited forty five minutes.

"I destroyed the records!" the doctor said nervously. "There's nothing tying it to Fist, I swear on my life!"

"That _is_ what's at stake," the leading thug said, drawing his weapon. It still didn't constitute an immediate threat, at least not by the Wards' standards. If Garrus were on-duty, he could have done something, but he had no more authority than a bystander here. Breaking the rules seemed more and more appealing.

"Please," the doctor's voice wavered, "_don't_ _do this._"

The sound of boots on glass interrupted the thugs' posturing and threats. They turned back to the front door and even Garrus took a quick peek around the corner. Three more humans, as familiar as humans could be to a turian: Commander Shepard and his merry band of miscreants. Humans had a reputation for being meddlesome and these three certainly didn't disappoint.

Shepard stood at the edge of what passed for the clinic's lobby, his fellows closely behind. Chief Williams had already drawn her weapon as the sight of the armed figures, and Kaidan soon followed suit. Shepard merely looked on with a crooked brow and outstretched arms. "The hell is going on here?" he shouted to the thugs at the other end of the room.

Seeing the armed trio at the door, the thugs' leader took Dr. Michel by the throat, holding her as a shield and training his weapon on the commander. That had to constitute immediate threat. The rest happened fast. Garrus peeked out of cover and trained his weapon on the hostage-taker's head, mere inches away from his hostages' own head. One shot and the thug hit the ground hard. Another shot and he wasn't getting back up. Dr. Michel took the opportunity to flee behind her desk as the remaining two thugs indecisively turned between the trio and the detective, waving their weapons recklessly around the room—immediate threat.

Garrus returned to cover as the thugs opened fire in his direction, albeit aimlessly. Williams took the opportunity, placing two rounds in the nearest thug's abdomen while Shepard took his time drawing his own weapon—needlessly at this point. Kaidan took the last remaining thug more tactfully (or inaccurately, if Williams was asked), hitting him once in the thigh and once more in the shoulder. They all fell to the ground within a good ten seconds' time. Shepard and Garrus both pushed forward and seized the assailants' weapons as the survivors writhed on the ground. One fatality and another would be lucky to survive.

Garrus offered an outstretched claw to the good doctor, pulling her up to her feet once she'd regained her senses. "Are you okay, doctor?" he asked.

She was shaken, but she had no visible injuries. "I'm fine," she stuttered after a few moments of silently surveying the wounded scattered across her floor of her clinic. Business was booming.

"Nice shot," Shepard greeted the detective, holstering his unfired weapon casually.

Garrus was not so casual about the events that had just taken place. "I might not have been forced to take it if _you_ didn't barge in," he scolded the humans.

Shepard blinked, not expecting a cold welcome. "I thought you said you were still going to investigate," he said.

"It was a consolation, _not_ an invitation."

Dr. Michel shook her head briefly, trying to quell the nausea before speaking. "They were going to kill me," she turned to the detective.

"They didn't," he replied.

"No," she said. "They were going to kill me even before you showed up," she motioned to the recent arrivals.

Shepard interrupted before Garrus could have a chance to clarify. "Who were they, doctor?"

"They work for Fist," she answered. "_Worked_, I suppose."

"Fist?"

"A local boss," Garrus added. "Human, male, low-level information broker, owns a few bars as fronts."

The doctor paced back to the files she had thrown in case the worst came to pass. "I had a patient a few days ago," she explained as she carefully picked the datapads from the floor. "A quarian. She said she had information about a spectre."

"Saren?" Williams asked from across the clinic.

"Yes, that was his name," the doctor nodded. "She had been shot. She was scared, wanted to sell the information to the Shadow Broker." As illiterate as Shepard was on galactic politics, even he'd heard stories about the Shadow Broker—an intelligence mogul with a galaxy-wide network, buying and selling to anyone with a price. Nobody knew his name, his face, his species or even if 'he' was really a he. A reclusive bastard, that one. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted," the doctor continued. "I put her in contact with Fist and she left."

"So where's the part where Fist tries to kill you over it?" Shepard asked as his compatriots detained the surviving assailants.

"Fist doesn't work for the Broker anymore," Garrus answered. "He was the centerpiece in my initial investigation. The man's been making calls to more than one of Saren's known contacts and he's got a bounty the size of a small moon on his head."

"Fist betrayed the Broker?" Dr. Michel asked with wide-eyed surprise. "That's stupid, even for him."

"He's working with Saren. I'd bet my life on it," Garrus said. He turned to the doctor. "You should tend to your new patients. When C-Sec shows up, tell them everything." With a nod from the doctor, the detective made for the door.

"A spectre keeping criminals for company?" Shepard muttered. "And that's not a red flag?"

"You don't know much about spectres," Garrus said, his stride unbroken.

"Hold on, now!" Shepard shouted as the detective passed. "Where are you going?"

"Chora's Den," he answered. "Fist's favorite front."

"Well shit, we just came from there!" Shepard said.

Garrus stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to look back at the commander. "What do you mean you just came from there?"

"We talked to a guy named Harkin," Kaidan said, falling back in line with Williams. "He's the one who told us where to find you."

"You people talked to Harkin?" Garrus shook his head. "Harkin is on Fist's payroll, and you told him you wanted to _help me_?!"

"Not in so many words," Shepard qualified the accusation.

"The only reason Fist didn't order up an entire army of mercs is because the case was _closed_ and I'm just one guy!" Garrus' temper was beginning to show. "And you people walked in there and told him I have _a posse?_"

Shepard held his hands up defensively. "Let's be fair here," he said. "We didn't know any of this five minutes ago."

Garrus' complaints were unabated by the reasoning. "Well now the only way we'll get to him is by laying _siege_," he bemoaned the amateurish work of the trio before him. "Between three humans and four pistols, I don't think we can do that."

"We should take this to the Council," Kaidan asserted. "Go through proper channels."

"They already dropped the case," Garrus shook his head in dismissal. "They won't hear it. We're on our own until we get some real evidence."

Shepard would have informed the detective that he was a highly trained member of the most prestigious branch of the Systems Alliance's special operations division, but he somehow doubted a turian would give a human military any credit. The inadequacy of their force was evident to all, however, even as much as Williams would like to deny it. Yet the increasingly hostile conversation sparked an idea in the chief. A krogan making a scene in Chora's Den and a massive bounty on its proprietor's head couldn't have been a coincidence.

"Wrex," the chief said, drawing attention away from the argument that was about to ensue. "The big guy from the bar causing a scene," she explained.

"Urdnot Wrex?" Garrus asked, receiving only a shrug in return. "_Urdnot_ Wrex is one of the Shadow Broker's triggermen—a gun for hire. We've had trouble from him before."

"—So the Broker sends him to deal with Fist," Shepard mused. "I think he got arrested."

Garrus cracked what appeared to be a smile. "Not for long," he said. "We could use a krogan."

###

Urdnot Wrex had seen battle. He'd fought in the greatest wars the galaxy had ever seen, vanquished the greatest enemies ever known and leant his gun to the bloodiest conflicts in history. He'd both toppled and established tyrants, led his own clan of warriors and his face made more than a few wanted posters. Governments had respected his name and paid his premium. And here he was, being 'detained' by a handful of petite humans and turians in police costumes. Things had gone downhill for Wrex.

For what it was worth, the humans were trying very hard to intimidate the former warlord. It was almost endearing. They tried to push and shove, but pushing and shoving a krogan just wasn't feasible for such small, frail creatures. They didn't see krogan often and their handcuffs were three sizes too small, so Wrex had been escorted unrestrained. They wanted to take his weapons, but after realizing their weight they knew they couldn't carry them _and_ wistfully push a krogan around at the same time. Wrex was unbound, armed and free of conscience. C-Sec was lucky he had centuries to develop a sense of patience, not to mention the circumstances gave him the opportunity to further develop his sense of humor.

It was all a ruse. Take away the badges, guns and uniforms and you were left with children. They had no idea. Their authority was as soluble as their fiat currency. They had a rule of law only because they'd never met someone who could break it until today. The look of professional scorn did nothing to hide their fear of the towering krogan whose shadow dominated their path. They knew he could break any chains they bound him, any walls they used to imprison him. So it was appropriate they kept him in the open air of the C-Sec academy's central lobby. They told him to sit. He stood.

The human officer that had arrested him was attempting to lecture Wrex on weapons possession regulations, but he knew better than to take the threats at face-value. C-Sec was strictly a local police and security force. Despite the talk of incarceration, krogan faced with nonviolent charges of any nature were generally deported and black-listed. If a krogan got violent, standard C-Sec protocol was to hide and call for military support. There were plenty of restrictions on krogan foot-traffic, including a complete ban on their presence within the Presidium, but the simple fact of the matter was nobody could enforce them without dispatching a turian military special response team. Wrex had been deported before, for all the good that'd done.

The C-Sec officer snapped his fingers at Wrex's snout when he realized the krogan wasn't paying attention. "Hey," the officer said forcefully. "I don't want to have this conversation again."

Wrex looked down on the small man, baring his broken teeth when he spoke. "No, you don't," he replied, his deep and baleful voice echoing throughout the hall.

The officer continued his lecturing, evidently not having noticed his fellow officers had quietly departed the scene. From behind the officer Wrex could see another turian officer approaching, flanked by three more unimpressive-looking humans. The turian's stare was fixed on the overzealous lecturer. "Lamont!" the turian shouted. "If you don't lay off, he _will_ eat you."

Officer Lamont took his eyes off of the krogan and turned back to see Garrus' approach, and absolutely no one else at his back. "Where did—" he began to ask, slowly realizing he had been accosting a krogan, _alone_.

"Go do something else for a while," Garrus shoved the officer aside. "I'll handle this one." Lamont wanted to debate, but his physical inferiority must've triggered his flight instinct because he might as well have sprinted back into the depths of the academy. Garrus paid no mind, focusing on the towering, armed and armored krogan. He offered an open claw. "Detective Vakarian," he introduced himself.

Wrex did not accept the offer, his hands remaining firmly at his side. "And them?" he asked, motioning his turtle-like head toward the humans accompanying the detective.

"My future cellmates," Garrus answered coyly. "Word is you're after Fist."

"I haven't exactly made it a secret," Wrex rolled his head from side to side, emitting pops and cracks loud enough to be heard on the other side of the lobby. "What of it? You're going to stop me?"

"We want to help you," Shepard stepped forward, unaccustomed to being relegated to the silent observer. Garrus had asked he be allowed to do the talking. There was disagreement on that point.

Wrex emitted a low, guttural laugh. "And how could _you_ help _me_?"

"Fist knows you're after him. Fist knows _we're_ after him," the commander explained. "He's prepared for _all_ of us, no matter who walks in the door."

"And you came looking for a krogan," Wrex nodded to the commander. If he was going to be working with anyone, he'd rather work with the newcomers than the turian. "You're expecting a shootout."

"If it comes to it," Williams said.

Wrex sized the chief up. Her words didn't match her stature. Then again, no alien's stature matched those kinds of words. "I like your style," he smiled, "but I'm looking for a bounty, not a conviction."

Garrus retook the reigns of the negotiation. "We need him _alive_," he said. "He's got information and we want it."

"And what do I get," Wrex humored the turian. "Aside from your 'help,' of course."

"You get your bounty—all of it," Garrus answered, brushing aside the implication of inadequacy. "And I'll make sure the right people look the other way this time."

Wrex nodded slowly, a grim smirk crossing his features. "Information, huh?" he said. "Must be big."

"After we get what we need, we'll release him," Garrus added. "And we'll stop watching him or whatever happens to him."

Wrex sighed to himself for even considering the idea, but an easy job was an easy job. He wasn't too proud to take more than a few of those in his time. "Alright," he agreed. "Just tell me when to start shooting."

###

Fist had amassed a sizeable force inside Chora's Den, numbering nearly a dozen with his own green-plated krogan rejoining the ranks. He was still nervous. With only a few hours' notice he couldn't exactly call on the best, not to mention the fact that Saren's money hadn't cleared to _pay_ for the best. With the exception of the krogan, his people were flighty. Boisterous in the safety of their home turf, maybe, but this wasn't some shakedown or a skirmish with another gang. Harkin, being the rat he was, had bolted at the first sign of trouble. He'd given a few names before he left, however. Shepard was at the top of the list. The man had a reputation in the Alliance.

His men were gearing up for a showdown, but Fist himself knew better. He was packing his bags and burning anything he couldn't carry. He didn't let on. His people were fodder—replaceable. Fist would burn everything he had to the ground and build it up again once the heat died down. He'd done it before. He knew better than to face off with the Shadow Broker. A man could kill a dozen of the Broker's agents. He'd just send two dozen more to replace him. The Broker didn't stop until he got what he wanted. Right now, the Broker wanted Fist's head, so he wasn't sticking around.

The silence of his empty office hidden behind locked doors was offset by the foolhardy verbal jousting of his people in the bar, now closed for business. Everyone else had been sent away. He was almost finished wiping every computer he owned when the sounds outside his door stopped. He was too late.

Gunshots from outside ripped through the bar's front door, blasting it from its hinges and sending it tumbling to the ground. The lights were dim and the music had been stopped. Fist's men readied their weapons, surprised that the reason they had been hired was really coming to pass. Protection gigs rarely saw any real confrontation; it was all about deterrence. The lone human that stepped through the light smoke of where the door had been was undeterred.

Shepard stood atop the crumpled and broken door laid flush against the floor, seemingly unarmed with his hands raised in a placatory gesture. The thugs at the other end of the room trained their weapons on him regardless. "We're closed," the green-plated krogan said, shotgun gripped firmly in hand.

"I didn't see a sign," the commander said nonchalantly, pointing a thumb to what used to be an entrance. "I'm looking for someone," he smiled as Williams, Garrus and Wrex stepped through the door and into the bar, weapons brandished.

The other krogan started at the sight of Wrex. "Leave," he ordered, "_now_."

Shepard motioned to Wrex. "My friend here doesn't like you folks very much," he said. "He's looking for violence, but I convinced him to give you all one chance." The jesting tone in his voice was dropped quickly, replaced by a grim one. "Lay down the guns and walk away."

"No," replied the krogan.

Shepard smirked and clicked his tongue. "Have it your way." He tapped his wrist and opened his comm-line. "Kaidan?" he spoke into the holographic display.

"Yeah?" the lieutenant's voice came through the line clearly.

"Now," the commander ordered.

Kaidan had set up in the alley running alongside the bar's outer wall, a panel torn from beneath a nearby maintenance terminal and the wires it had concealed spliced directly into the omnitool's physical inputs across Kaidan's wrist. He wasn't fond of the plan, but at least it was easier than disarming a jerry-rigged nuclear warhead. He tapped the holographic screen projected from his wrist, accessing the bar's systems. They had no permits and were leeching off of local power, which meant their network security was lackluster at best. It wasn't any trouble to hijack their lights and speakers. And with a few taps, the real show started.

Without warning, the bar was flooded with blinding light and deafening sound. Its strobes were set in irregular intervals and its preferred music was blaring at max volume, alternating between tempos in a haze of noise devoid of rhythm. Fist could barely hear the gunshots over the maddening bass and lights, even as a few stray shots zipped through his own office. In a panic, he tried to gather his things despite having no viable means of escape, dropping more than he picked up. The sounds of glass shattering and metal warping added even more to the already chaotic atmosphere that had invaded his preferred venue.

He made for his office's exit only to be knocked to the ground as the hulking frame of his krogan bodyguard was smashed through his door, limp and unmoving. He shoved the behemoth off, grabbing what little he could before bolting out of the office and toward the exit. He didn't make it far before being clothes-lined by a particular sturdy turian arm, falling again to the floor. The turian's foot clamped down on his chest with the barrel of a gun aimed at his face when he looked up.

After a few moments, the sounds of struggle and gunfire dissipated. "Cut it," the commander spoke into the glowing interface on his wrist. With the order, the sound stopped abruptly and the lights returned to a regular, stable illumination. Fist could see writhing and limp bodies scattered across the bar—at least half of the people he'd hired, with the other half having fled for their lives. Four figures stood above him looking down—a turian, two humans and a krogan. The people he'd been expecting. "Pick him up," the commander said.

Garrus took Fist by the neck, dragging him to his feet and shoving him into the nearest chair, careful to keep his weapon at the ready. "Hello," Garrus introduced himself. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Whatever you want, just don't—" he stuttered, glancing back and forth between the turian and his pistol.

The commander brushed Garrus aside, looking Fist in the eye and speaking with his best commanding voice. "A quarian contacted you a few days ago, trying to sell information to the Shadow Broker in exchange for protection," he stated clearly and loudly. "Where is she?"

"I don't— I can't—" Fist's eyes darted back and forth between his interrogators, stumbling over his words.

The commander turned to Wrex. "Take off his knees," he said.

"Wait!" Fist pleaded, much to Wrex's disappointment. "Just…fuck, I'll tell you what you want to know! I surrender!"

"_Everything_," the commander demanded, pressing the barrel of his pistol against the man's knee, still warm from being fired.

"Shit," Fist coughed. "I've been running interference for Saren Arterius for a few months now on the side. He paid double what the Broker paid. I thought I could get by playing both sides," he spoke quickly and timidly.

"The quarian!" Shepard shouted.

A look of fear and confusion adorned Fist's slightly blood-flecked face. "You said everything!"

The commander pointed his gun aside and pulled the trigger, sending a shot ricocheting through the room. "The quarian!" he repeated more forcefully.

"Alright!" Fist agreed in wide-eyed terror. "She came to me a few days ago! Some doctor gave me her name; she wanted a face-to-face with the Broker."

Garrus gave a sideways look to the commander. "_Nobody_ meets with the Broker," he added.

Fist continued, nodding at the statement. "I'm one of his top lieutenants, and I don't even know who he is." He wasn't a top lieutenant, although his ego wouldn't allow him to admit such. Fist was small-time. "She said she had evidence proving a spectre had gone rogue. I contacted Saren and he wanted her and the doctor taken out." The idea of Saren working through a human agent didn't sit well, but Fist wasn't in much of a position to be lying.

Shepard pressed the gun back against the man's knee, its barrel searing hot now. "I swear to God, Fist!"

"She's still alive!" he squealed. "I arranged a meet between her and one of Saren's men in the four-hundred block—address in my bag. I told her he was the Broker. It's supposed to happen in a few minutes; you can make it if you go now!"

Wrex stepped forward, shotgun in-hand. "Is this what you were looking for?"

"Yeah," Shepard answered, taking the man's bag pulling a datapad from its contents.

"Please, I surrender!" Fist begged. "Arrest me, I'll plead guilty!"

Shepard, Garrus and the chief were too preoccupied, huddled together and scrambling through the datapad for the address, to notice Wrex readying his weapon. "This is it," Shepard noted before one final gunshot echoed through the room. The trio jumped at the sound, turning back to see what remained of Fist between the wall and the smoking barrel of the krogan's shotgun.

"What the hell?!" Garrus shouted to the krogan upon seeing the grisly display. "You agreed we were taking him _alive_!"

Wrex returned his weapon to its place on his back. "We just killed half of his people and sent the rest away limping and bleeding." He shook his head. "What's the difference?"

Garrus scoffed. "The difference is he _surrendered_!"

"You got what you wanted and I get paid," Wrex said, turning and lumbering out the door. "See you around, Shepard," he nodded to the commander as he departed.

Garrus tried to follow, but the commander kept him in place by the arm. "Forget him!" he said, tossing the datapad aside. "We need to go, now!"

The commander bolted, dragging Garrus by the arm as they passed Wrex, who watched in amusement. Williams kept pace easily, recalling the commander's huffing and puffing on Eden Prime. He had radioed Kaidan to meet them en route, who agreed without question. The four-hundred block was not as close as Fist had implied. They ran through alleys, then pavilions, and then they shoved their way through crowded markets. Garrus' waved his credentials in every direction, which was mildly helpful in dispersing foot-traffic, but plenty of people were shoved onto their asses as the team pushed through.

This was worse than Eden Prime. A ticking clock and everything on the line didn't do well for the commander's nerves. His hands would have been shaking if they weren't being used to clear the crowd. His blood burned and his legs felt like they were pumping battery acid. It had been too long since he'd been in the hero business, so he was still a little rusty. He pushed through the pain and the nerves, moving as quickly as he could to keep pace with the significantly faster turian that had easily overtaken his path. It was bad enough dealing with the turians' condescending disposition. It was worse to think they were right.

And so, he ran with everything he had. If the quarian died, it was over. The Council would pin Nihlus' death on humanity, and they'd left more than enough bodies in their wake on Zakera to bolster the accusation. It was either find the quarian or spend the rest of their days playing scapegoat for whatever Saren was scheming at. There was no choice. They had an appointment to crash.


	5. Chapter 4

Mauve

It had been six local days since she'd arrived on the Citadel and here she stood, in a dark alley on a lonely corner of the lowest levels of Zakera Ward's four-hundred block. It had been a long eight days since it started and, despite the circumstances, Tali'Zorah had the itching feeling that it was far from over. Her pilgrimage was going poorly, and decidedly so. She'd been chased, shot, chased again, denied asylum and sent into what seemed more like a setup by the minute. And yet here she stood, in a dark alley on a lonely corner, in the vain hope that it'd all work out.

Her first day on the Citadel wasn't the typical day of sight-seeing and wonderment. A lot of quarians chose to start their pilgrimage on the Citadel, and it didn't take long to realize how great a mistake that would have been. Tali'Zorah never meant to come here. She'd meant to strike out on her own on the borders of the Perseus Veil, the invisible demarcation between what had once been quarian territory and the galaxy at-large. She'd booked passage on a few ships, encountered a few geth and, soon enough, she found herself in the possession of information she shouldn't have had. She fled to the Citadel looking for protection, but she was followed. Quarians didn't have an embassy and the few people who would even speak to her only did so to practice slurs and threaten to report her for vagrancy. They confiscated what few weapons she had before throwing her out with an ultimatum to leave the station. Her pursuers found her, gave chase, and landed a grazing shot across her side before she lost them.

Most of the second day was spent bleeding. The shot wasn't bad, but the suit-puncture was the real concern. Quarians' immune systems were barely functional after living and breeding aboard the sterile environments of the Migrant Fleet for so many centuries. Six hours to find a dormitory that would agree to house a quarian. Forty five minutes to thoroughly disinfect the wound and administer antibiotics while she did what she could to gather make-shift repair materials. Two hours to patch the hole in her environment suit. Four and a half hours spent incapacitated and delirious between the budding infection and the effects of the drugs.

With day three, Tali'Zorah abandoned her dormitory out of a vindicated sense of paranoia. She spent a few hours trying to convince someone in the Presidium to listen to her plea, but she was denied. She attempted to lobby for an audience directly with the Council only to be faced with a waiting-list upwards of seven months in duration. Distraught, she fled to Zakera, immediately acquiring a small, half-charged and second-hand shotgun from a less-than-reputable merchant. Quarians weren't granted weapons permits even in the best circumstances, so Tali'Zorah spent a good chunk of time ducking C-Sec patrols. She visited a local clinic, her hand never far from the rusted and unreliable weapon slung across her hip. Having depleted her stock of antibiotics, the attending doctor was willing to part with a decent supply in exchange for what little money the quarian had left. It took some convincing, but the doctor was also willing to point her in the direction of someone who could put her in contact with the Shadow Broker. It was a bad idea, but all other options had been exhausted.

Day four—Tali'Zorah took the risk and contacted Fist. She didn't meet him in-person, despite his insistence that such an arrangement shouldn't be made over an unsecured line. She was desperate, not stupid. She made it clear to Fist that she met face-to-face with the Broker and the Broker only. Anyone else and she would walk. Fist agreed reluctantly and would contact her with details. Afterward, Tali spent the rest of the afternoon searching for another place to stay. Another hovel in the lower districts became a temporary refuge to be abandoned by morning.

Day five and Fist hadn't called back. Tali'Zorah was getting worried. She started making her own calls, trying to find some other way to contact the Broker. To her surprise, she caught the Broker's attention, or someone else in his organization at least—likely asking the wrong questions of too many people. She received a single, untraceable message. In short: "talk to Fist." She'd already done that and he wasn't talking. On the bright side, she hadn't had any run-ins with C-Sec or her pursuers since the first day.

Day six. Fist called in the morning. Tali'Zorah hadn't slept. Fist said he'd arranged a face-to-face with the Broker, sending a place and a time. She scoped the location out in advance: a quiet little alley in a red-light district, open to everyone but rarely traveled by anyone but maintenance crew and keepers. Fist hadn't given up any more details. There were no other options. She had a shotgun and knew how to rig a maintenance terminal to short-out violently on cue. She took advantage of both. If things went wrong, she could turn every access terminal in the alley into a makeshift flashbang. It wasn't much and there was nowhere else to go if she had to run, but it was something.

Here she stood, on the coldest deck of the seediest district on a station that hated quarians. She waited alone longer than she should have but, between the lack of sleep and the constant fear, she wasn't about to pass up her only shot at safety even if it was ill-advised. A disheveled, scarred turian approached, flanked by a pair of masked salarians. Not only were they late, but she was told she was meeting the Broker alone. This lanky-looking, poorly-dressed turian was not him, and his cronies didn't seem like the heads of a shadowy interstellar intelligence network either. She pulled her veil taut as they approached.

"Nice evening. Care for some company?" the turian asked from several meters across the alley, standing in a decidedly un-turian, predatory posture with his salarian friends close at his side.

Her glowing eyes grew visibly narrow behind the opaque, purple glass of her mask. "No," Tali'Zorah answered, her voice slightly distorted through the mask's modulator.

The turian chuckled slightly, waving his arms mockingly and glancing around the otherwise empty alley. "I don't see any other quarians here," he said, walking closer. "Do you?"

She maintained a strong front as he approached, but she wanted to run more and more by the second. "Where's the Broker?"

"He'll be here," the turian lied. He ran a claw up the side of the quarian's arm. Her suit was built strong, but it still had weak-points. A turian's talon could easily make a potentially deadly cut. "Where's the data?" he asked quietly.

She brushed his hand off and backed away, her right hand wandering to the weapon on her hip. "Deal's off," she said. The turian didn't care for the comment, reaching for his weapon with his cronies doing the same.

Before the situation could escalate further, the sound of distant footfalls from behind the quarian drew their attention. Within enough time for brows to rise and interests to pique, a human man rounded the dimly lit corner, stumbling wildly before tripping over a piece of refuse and falling flat on his face. He was followed by a turian detective and two more similarly-dressed humans—another man and a woman. The first human dragged himself on his hands and knees, pointing in Tali'Zorah's general direction and looking back to his armor-clad turian friend.

"Which one is the quarian?!" he shouted, coughing and wheezing exhaustively between words.

Seeing the assailants across the alley, the detective drew his pistol with his new human compatriots doing the same. "The purple one!" Garrus answered, noting the quarian's thick purple veil shrouding the helmet.

"Right," the commander panted, heart still racing as he fumbled to draw his weapon once more. The predatory turian on the other side had already trained his gun on the group, a talon pressed firmly against the trigger. Tali'Zorah didn't stop to ask questions, quickly tapping a button on her wrist and swinging her shotgun to face the assailants. With the act, every panel in the alley sparked and burst with bright light while the alley's dim red lamps flickered. Her mask adjusted to compensate for the light, but the rest of the alley's occupants reeled and covered their eyes, the commander in particular firing haphazardly toward the turian assailant. She took cover behind a nearby refuse bin until the fire died down, stepping out to see the salarians limping away and the disheveled turian lying motionless across the cold metal deck.

Shepard had dropped his pistol and fallen to his back by the time the conflict died down, his fellows either fallen or leaning against the alley's scorched walls as they held their hands to their eyes. When Shepard's vision began to return, he saw the underside of a cheap, rusted shotgun pressed against his forehead and a particularly angry-looking set of glowing eyes behind purple-tinted glass. He held his hands up in attempt to placate any further hostility, though he would later vehemently deny it was an act of surrender.

"Who are you?" the quarian asked, the strength of her words betrayed by a wavering voice of inexperience.

"Just—" Shepard stuttered. "God damn it, hold on." He blinked and squinted, his ears ringing and eyes tearing up from the blast. He had been on the opposite end of this sort of exchange only minutes before. He was starting to feel bad about Fist. "I'm Commander Shepard and I'm here to help," he said, making a point of keeping his hand away from his weapon's place on the ground.

Tali'Zorah wasn't unappreciative, but she wasn't exactly in a trusting mood. "I can handle myself," she said. By the time Garrus had recovered, she had backed away—weapon still in hand but not brandished toward any particular target. The others slowly came-to soon thereafter. "Why are you here?" she asked, maintaining control of the discussion.

"Fist," Shepard answered, slowly moving to stand. "We talked to Fist."

"The same _bosh'tet_ that just tried to have me killed?" she asked angrily. Her voice was heavily accented and not everything translated properly. Quarians were very few in number these days, and they were a rare sight outside of the Migrant Fleet. Most translation software used centuries-old, outdated quarian language records from an era before their exodus from the homeworld. Frankly, not many manufacturers saw the need to accurately translate Kheelish.

"He's dead," Garrus told her grimly, helping Lieutenant Alenko to his feet as he spoke. Williams had helped herself, now attempting to play casual leaning against the wall.

"You killed him?" she said with obvious surprise, though with no trace of sympathy.

"Not us specifically," Shepard qualified the statement, carefully taking his weapon from the ground and holstering it with two fingers so as not to arouse hostility. "You have information on a spectre named Saren," he said. "We need it."

She stuttered in surprise once more. Evidently she had become very popular since she'd arrived, and in all the wrong ways. Eventually, she settled on a response. "Why should I trust you?"

Shepard gave a single, half-hearted laugh. He was tired and he couldn't hide the fact at this point. "They were trying to kill you and we aren't." He motioned with a single hand to her shotgun, beckoning her to holster the weapon. She complied. "We can take you to the human embassy. You'll be safe there."

"_Or_," the quarian continued, "You could be lying."

"We could be," Garrus said. "Then again, if you don't get rid of that data, you'll have to contend with worse than us."

Tali sighed in her mask, sizing up the group. She was no soldier herself, but these people were clumsy by the looks of them. They didn't seem to know what they were doing here any better than she did, which spoke well for their harmlessness if not for their competence. "I'm keeping my gun," she said.

Shepard looked back to his compatriots, who gave curt nods and shrugs. "I'm okay with that," he agreed. "What's your name?"

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya."

Shepard paused for a moment, blinking a few times as he attempted to see through the opaque glass of her mask to no avail. "You cannot possibly expect me to pronounce that," he said dully. "Can I call you Tali?"

Tali shook her head. "I would prefer that you didn't."

###

This had not been a good day for Ambassador Udina. A little over forty eight hours after the death of a spectre and all he'd done had amounted to little more than flailing his arms against the wind. The Council already had him in their sights this morning. The afternoon was fairing even worse. Humanity's reputation was on the line. He took a risk; that much he could admit to himself. He had been told they were highly trained professionals. They had lied.

"Firefights in the wards?!" the ambassador shouted, his words echoing through his modest office in the embassy. "You left nearly a dozen corpses down there! Do the words _'political shit-storm'_ mean anything to you, commander?!"

The commander had just arrived with his ragtag cadre and he was already being assailed. Udina didn't even give him the courtesy of a cursory glance, choosing instead to pace back and forth around his own desk in what was rapidly becoming a textbook case of an anxiety attack. The captain was much calmer, expressing his concern with an indeterminate silence.

"Yeah," Shepard answered. "I read a file on those. Found it in a folder marked _'your problem.'_"

Garrus found the discussion strange, as all human exchanges seemed to be. Open insubordination wasn't exactly commonplace in the Hierarchy. Even if a superior wasn't in a direct chain-of-command, a turian _never_ employed sarcasm when being called to task. Tali, on the other hand, was too engulfed in the atmosphere and architecture of the Presidium to even notice. She had dropped her defensiveness shortly after leaving Zakera—when she realized she wasn't being lied to for once. After ensuring the quarian's safe passage, Kaidan and Williams had returned to _Normandy_. Everyone involved had received a few scrapes and bruises in the scuffles. Shepard was the only one willing to risk the doctor's wrath by neglecting a visit.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!" Udina cursed, pointing a crooked finger toward the commander. "Are you _trying_ to start an interstellar war?" His tirade was cut short, realizing a turian and a quarian had accompanied the commander. He waved his hand in their direction, indignation momentarily overridden by curiosity. "Who are they?" he asked.

"I was going to tell you before you jumped down my throat," Shepard answered. He pointed a thumb toward the detective. "This is Garrus Vakarian, the C-Sec officer we mentioned." His hand turned toward the quarian, voice growing less official with the second introduction. "And this is Tali."

"_Tali'Zorah nar Rayya_," she insisted to no avail.

The commander briefly relayed the events of the afternoon to the ambassador—he and Captain Anderson listening carefully and weighing whatever political damage the venture had caused. There were a few moments in the retelling that garnered scrutiny or scolding from his superiors, but Shepard otherwise avoided any particular egregious embellishments in his recollection of events even if he did omit his own blunders and pratfalls. By the end of the story, all that remained was Tali's evidence. She had initially refused to present it to anyone but a representative of the council, but Shepard had managed to convince her Udina was as close as she would get.

"Well," Udina said, stroking his chin and shooting an incredulous glance to the captain, "what have you got?" he asked the quarian.

"A recording," Tali explained. "I was scavenging on one of our old border worlds, trying to find something to bring back to the fleet for my Pilgrimage, when I happened across a geth patrol."

"Pilgrimage?" Shepard asked, eliciting a sigh from the ambassador.

Tali nodded. "It's a rite of passage in the fleet. When we reach adulthood, we leave the fleet to search for something—anything—of value for our people." Udina rolled his eyes, growing impatient. Tali did not catch the hint. "When we return, we present what we've found to one of our captains in exchange for a place on their crew."

"This is all very enlightening," Udina interrupted. "Let's focus on the evidence, please."

This was the first time Tali had ever encountered humans up-close. Their frequent application of sarcasm was not something she grasped. "Well, when I saw the geth, I got curious," she continued. "They usually don't come out that far, so I waited for one to leave the pack. I ambushed it and salvaged its memory core."

The captain was more than suspicious of the claim. Every report back from Eden Prime said the geth there had self-destructed before any information could be salvaged. But the quarians had created the things, so it certainly wasn't impossible for a quarian to salvage one. "What did you find?" he asked.

"This," Tali answered, tapping her wrist. Her omnitool sparked to life, its readouts in alien script indecipherable to her human company. After a few moments, her recording began to play quietly for its would-be audience.

It was static, at first, before a voice came through—distinctly turian with a flanged tone and the subtle clicks of mandibles crossing the speaker's jaw. _"—picked up a signal from Eden Prime,_" the voice said. "_They've found a Beacon._" The recognizably electric chirps and clicks of a humanoid geth responded to the turian, evidently with a question. "_We need it,_" the voice continued. "_Nihlus is a friend, but he wouldn't understand. He's too much of an idealist. We can't let him tell the Council._" More geth chatter followed. It wasn't clear how the turian understood any of it. "_Let me worry about him. When we get that Beacon, we'll all be one step closer to finding the Conduit._"

"That's definitely Saren," Captain Anderson noted. "I recognize the voice."

A distinctly female voice played in the recording, answering Saren. "_And one step closer to the return of the Reapers,_" it said as the recording cut out.

The word rang through Shepard's skull. Reaper: a curious bit of superstition. It consumes even when it doesn't feel the pangs of hunger. It's purpose-driven, methodical and without remorse. He could see the flashes of red in the back of his mind—teeth of metal carving through its harvest. His predecessors had spent eons searching for a higher order. They found it. They were eternal and elusive. The world was their plaything—an armada of tombstones reciting a eulogy of violence again and again until the end of time.

"Commander!" Captain Anderson's voice broke the commander's musings, his brow furrowed in genuine concern.

Shepard leaned his weight against the nearby desk, wincing and shaking his head. "Sorry," he said. "Could you repeat that?"

The captain spoke slowly. "I asked if that meant anything to you."

"I just," Shepard stuttered. "I had a bit of _déjà vu_ is all."

"Do you know what they were talking about?" the captain pressed. "A 'Conduit?' _Reapers_?"

"No," the commander shook his head. "I just remember something like that from the Beacon."

Udina interrupted, his mood much more positive than it had been minutes earlier. "Their motives are immaterial at the moment," he said. "Provided the Council can verify its authenticity, this is irrefutable proof." He took to the terminal at his desk briefly, tapping away at the interface. "I'm going to arrange another hearing." He left the terminal and took a small datapad from his desk, stopping to address Shepard on his way out. "I want your team there the moment I call. Don't answer any questions you aren't asked and by God you'd better damn well make sure the quarian gets there in one piece."

Tali scoffed once more. "My name is Tali'Zorah. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya." Udina paid no mind to the objection, quickly departing the office without another word. In spite of their sardonic nature, humans seemed to be a lot more formal than quarians—very cold and impersonal.

Captain Anderson figured he would be needed during the arrangements. He made for the door, stopping to give the commander a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. "You did a good thing, Shepard," he said. "Stupid, but good."

Shepard wasn't hadn't been accustomed to receiving praise for a very long time. Captain Anderson certainly didn't hand out congratulations lightly. "What do I say when they ask how I did it, sir?" he asked.

The captain sighed lightly. "Usually I'd encourage honesty," he answered. "In this case, I don't think it's the best policy. Just don't give them anything more than they ask and you'll be fine." He turned to the door to follow the ambassador. "They've got bigger fish to fry," he said as he departed.

At that, only the Shepard, Garrus and Tali remained, equally uncertain as to what they were supposed to do while they waited. Garrus hadn't ever been at the center of this kind of political intrigue, and he was fairly certain he didn't like it. Shepard had been a part of more than one kind of boondoggle, but it had always ended with a reassignment to some quiet, off-the-grid posting. For Tali's part, the circumstances here were only as strange as the circumstances everywhere else she'd been since she'd left the Migrant Fleet. They stood in awkward silence for some time with no place to go and very little to say.

Tali was the first to break the silence, leaning against the desk next to the commander. "Sorry I pointed a gun at you," she said.

Shepard was surprised. People usually didn't apologize for things like that, and he hardly expected them to. "Don't worry about it," he smiled. He motioned to the inactive omnitool on her wrist—their evidence. "That the kind of thing you can take back home?"

Tali shook her head. "It's trivial," she answered. "It has to be something that helps ensure the survival of the whole fleet."

"Big responsibility," he said. "What are you going to do?"

She shrugged. "I think my Pilgrimage can wait. What does it say about me if I leave something like this half-finished?" She seemed to be dropping hints, albeit poorly and unsubtly.

Shepard couldn't see an expression behind the opaque glass. She was difficult to gauge. "You want to go after Saren?" he asked with a crooked brow.

She nodded ambitiously. "I know my way around ships," she gave her pitch. "Give me a circuit board and a drop of eezo and I'll have it making precision-jumps." The commander didn't seem to be buying it in spite of her enthusiasm. "You _are_ going after him when you leave, yes?"

Shepard conceded. "Well—"

"Hold on," Garrus broke his own stoic silence. "This was _my_ case. If anyone should be going after Saren, it should be me."

People usually lobbied _against_ being under Shepard's command. They certainly never competed for the position. "Don't you have a _regular_ job?" he asked the detective.

Tali attempted a more rational appeal. "There's no reason we can't both go."

"Like hell there isn't," Garrus said. "I'm not going to play second-fiddle on _my own case_." It was amazing enough that the phrase 'second-fiddle' even had a turian equivalent, let alone that the translators could handle it.

"Stop!" Shepard held his hands between the two. "My name is not '_Captain Shepard_,' if you didn't notice," he said. "I'm not the one who makes those kinds of decisions."

Garrus wasn't abated by the comment. "Then run it up the chain of command," he said.

Shepard tugged at his bloodied, frayed field jacket. "I've got to get back in my uniform," he said. "I've got to go see our ship's physician about the spots in my vision. And then I've got to testify on an interstellar conspiracy," He made for the door, now understanding why the others had been so quick to leave. "I'll add it to the list."

Garrus and Tali remained, more than a little bitterness between them after the brief exchange. The detective would have been the next to leave, but he realized he was the only person left with the recent target of assassination. Even worse, he was pretty sure the embassy didn't serve dextro-amino food. It was going to be a long afternoon.

###

Within a few hours, the hearing had been set and the schedules had been cleared. As they had the last time, Ambassador Udina and Captain Anderson monopolized the chambers. Tali had been first to testify, followed by Garrus. Williams and Kaidan had given their piece briefly and now loitered in the tower's familiar pavilion, much less crowded in the early evening's hours. Commander Shepard was unfashionably late, likely being scolded by the good doctor for not reporting in sooner. From the sounds of things, they were off the hook on Nihlus' death for certain. Whether or not the Council dealt with Saren was an entirely different matter.

Kaidan sat with his arms crossed atop a small bench at the edge of a carefully manicured, grassy terrace. "Hell of a day," he said to the chief.

Williams had been fiddling with a small crucifix around her neck—something she'd retrieved from what little of her personal effects had made it aboard the ship. Wearing it was completely against Alliance diplomatic regulation when dealing in inter-species politics, but it wasn't visible once she'd tucked it in her freshly-pressed uniform. "Better than yesterday," she said lightly.

Kaidan leaned back, getting what little relaxation he could while he had the chance. "Heard Udina was pretty pissed at us," he chuckled softly.

Williams returned the statement with a muted laugh. "Figures," she said. "He sends us out there to do a job and scolds us when we do it." She shook her head as she joined the lieutenant on the bench. "Politicians."

"Well," Kaidan sighed. "It's better than nothing."

"Not by much."

Kaidan gave her a sideways glance. "You're a hell of a cynic, you know that?"

Williams nodded. "And you're the insufferable kind of optimist."

"Reminds me of a joke I heard back on Jump Zero," he said.

Williams didn't care for jokes or personal stories, but she'd figured he'd earned one for going along with so many plans he didn't like. "Don't let me stop you," she said once she'd realized he was waiting for her to ask.

"An optimist and a pessimist are arguing over a half-full glass of water," he started.

"Half-empty," Williams quipped.

Kaidan ignored the correction. "The pessimist says, '_This glass is almost empty! It couldn't get any worse than this!_' The optimist takes the glass and pours the water onto the ground. The pessimist says, '_Why did you do that?!_' and the optimist says, '_To show you it could be worse._'"

"Awful joke," Williams neglected to laugh. "I prefer the ones about priests and rabbis." They sat quietly for a moment, watching what little foot-traffic there was to see at this hour. Tali and Garrus were visible across the pavilion, being even less sociable to one another than Williams and Kaidan had been. "You were on Jump Zero, huh?" she asked after a while. Kaidan responded with a slight gesture of affirmation, not speaking definitively. "Is that why the doctor's been slipping you pills?" she pried.

"It's all above-board," the lieutenant said under his breath. "I just prefer to keep it below the radar."

Ashley nodded. "I heard some bad things about Jump Zero," she said.

"They had more stroke-victims than soldiers," Kaidan muttered. "Most people couldn't take the L2 implants. I got off with migraines and nosebleeds whenever I think about something too hard." He chuckled grimly to himself. "And the real kicker is that by the time I'd finished learning how to compensate, they started using the L3."

"It could be worse," Ashley gave a slight, if insincere, smile.

"Exactly."

Commander Shepard came into view as he crossed the pavilion toward the Council's chambers. Tali waved him over excitedly, clearly not grasping the formality of the situation, as everyone else merely sat and watched. The commander didn't wave back, keeping his head low and walking briskly past with his hands in his uniform's pockets.

Kaidan perked up at the opportunity to get in a jab or two. "You're late!" he shouted to the commander with a grin. "The doctor keep you waiting?"

Shepard kept his eyes forward and his pace quick. "I don't want to talk about it," he answered with more than a little disdain, walking quickly enough that he was well beyond earshot before further remarks could be delivered. Within a few moments, he had disappeared further in to the bowels of the tower.

Kaidan took Williams by the arm, pulling her from her seat as he stood. "Come on," he said, nodding to Garrus as he stood as well.

The chief yanked her arm from his grasp with a furrowed brow. "_What?_" she asked.

Kaidan grinned. "You're going to want to watch what happens next." He practically dragged the chief toward the others. Garrus guided the rest through the side –halls and stairwells lining the council's chambers with little in the way of words. Tali was being equally silent, but far less stoic as her head swiveled curiously from side to side as she took in the surroundings. After a number of twisting halls, the group found themselves along the observation balcony above the chamber's main hall. It was a familiar to scene to everyone but the quarian, though the tone was far more positive this time around. They each leaned against the rail, watching as Ambassador Udina and Captain Anderson once more addressed the Council from the lonely platform below their would-be thrones. Shepard quietly entered, trying not to draw too much attention as he made his way to the captain's side. The Council took note, but continued their discussion without verbal acknowledgment.

"I'm most concerned by the second voice," the Asari Councilor said. "I recognize it—Matriarch Benezia." She seemed much more humble now that one of her own people was implicated. "She is among the most respected of our elders. To think that she had something to do with this…" her words trailed off.

"You asked for evidence," Udina asserted. "Whomever that evidence implicates is immaterial. We demand action_._"

"This is _troubling_, I will admit," conceded Valern, "and I will be the first to revoke Saren's spectre privileges. But I do not see what more you expect." It was, of course, only now that they had admitted Saren dropped out of contact with them well before the attack on Eden Prime.

Shepard whispered to the captain. "Sorry, got caught up on the ship," he mumbled. "What did I miss?"

"They believe us," the captain answered quietly. "Not much else."

"He nearly wiped out an entire human colony!" Udina shouted indignantly. "Find him! Send your fleet in!"

Sparatus snapped his mandibles across his jaw, emitting a loud crack. "And trigger a war with the Terminus Systems?" he said incredulously. "Over one man?"

"He _must_ answer for this!" Udina persisted. "Humanity will _not_ stand for another Shanxi!"

Tevos interrupted with a raised hand. "Saren _will_ be held accountable, ambassador. I can assure you," she spoke softly. "But this Council is already on the verge of a cold war with the Terminus. We cannot risk deploying an armada to their border over one world." This answer had only served to boil Udina's blood even further.

Captain Anderson stepped forward before the ambassador's frustration could get the best of him. "There is another option," he said, voice strongly echoing through the chamber. The Council's eyes turned to him and even Udina took the moment to breathe. "Send a spectre after him."

Valern dismissed the idea off-hand. "We've already lost two spectres. They're a task-force, not an army."

Tevos hadn't been so quick to judge the idea, carefully contemplating the suggestion before answering it. She turned to her colleagues. "We could replace one right now," she said. It was an uncharacteristically brash suggestion from the asari, and her counterparts recognized it as such.

Sparatus shot his asari counterpart with what must have been a look of complete disbelief. "No!" he said. "Humanity is not ready for that kind of responsibility!"

Williams leaned toward the lieutenant from above. "Are they talking about what I think they're talking about?" she whispered.

Kaidan grinned. "Well, they aren't talking about the weather."

Udina, having regained his composure, stepped forward once more. "You sent Nihlus to determine whether we are ready," he argued. "When Saren murdered him, it was a human that found the proof. How much more prepared should we be?" Garrus didn't care for having all the credit for the investigation laid at the commander's feet, but it also meant he wasn't going to get charged for going off the reservation. He was willing to concede the point.

Tevos nodded in agreement with the ambassador, perhaps for the first time. "_We_ made the list of candidates," she said to her turian colleague. "Commander Shepard was at the top of that list, and now he's done more to honor the death of our own than we have ourselves."

Sparatus sighed. With Tevos and the newly presented evidence from the quarian, Valern was sure to side with the humans. He was outnumbered. He turned to the ambassador. "Please," he pleaded. "Please reconsider." Turians didn't have a direct equivalent to the word 'please.'

Udina did not flinch. "We have made our position clear, councilor," he affirmed.

Commander Shepard turned his head toward the captain. "I still want to say no."

Captain Anderson shook his head curtly. "You won't."

"Commander Shepard," Tevos announced, interrupting his final plea. "Please step forward."

The commander obliged, cautiously passing the captain and the ambassador, standing directly at the foot of the council's platform with all eyes on him. A number of assistants and diplomats from the nearby offices had gathered and he could see what passed for his own team standing among them on the balconies above. The councilors each tapped briefly at their individual terminals as a number of scanners embedded into the walls and floors quietly clicked away in the commander's direction.

The asari looked down at him with the rest, faces emotionless and formal. "Commander, do you accept the duty we have extended?"

Shepard swallowed hard. He didn't feel like he was up to it, especially after realizing just how out-of-practice he really was. Every neuron in his head was screaming 'no,' but the word would not make the transition from thought to speech. "Yes," he said, standing at attention.

Tevos nodded. "Then it is the decision of this Council that you be granted all of the rights, privileges and responsibilities of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel government." The commander did not like the emphasis placed upon the word 'responsibility.'

Valern tapped his console, signing off on the decision. "Spectres are not trained, but chosen. They are individuals forged in the fires of service and whose actions have elevated them above the standard rank and file."

Tevos followed suit, tapping her own console. "Spectres are an ideal. They answer to no one law and no one world. They are a symbol of independence, determination and self-reliance. They serve only the Council, instruments of the common good."

Sparatus was last to approve, hesitating briefly before taking the plunge. "Spectres carry a great burden. They are our first and our last line of defense against threats both known and unknown. The continued safety of the galaxy and all of its inhabitants is theirs to uphold."

Shepard had been expecting something more grandiose. He knew the stories well enough; spectres were independent agents with broad jurisdiction. If this was the extent of their formal initiation, however, it was no surprise one of them went rogue. The only surprise was that it didn't happen more often. At the very least, he could hear Williams and Alenko clapping either respectfully or sardonically above, along with a few of the other human onlookers. The non-humans were nonplussed—including Garrus—but Tali had seemed content to replicate the gesture as best she could with only six fingers.

"Commander, you are the first human spectre," the asari remarked. "This is a significant accomplishment for you and your entire species."

Her praise seemed genuine, but the commander couldn't help but perceive a sense of condescension. "Not to look a gift-horse in the mouth," he said, relaxing his posture and nervously scratching at the back of his neck. "This all just seems a bit too _easy_."

Sparatus clicked his mandibles across his jaw once more. "The easy part is over, commander," he said. "As per your ambassador's request, we will have you pursue Agent Saren Arterius. His final reports indicate he's still in the Attican Traverse since your encounter on Eden Prime. He is henceforth a fugitive from justice and you are authorized to use any means you deem necessary to apprehend him. All relevant information will be forwarded to the office of Ambassador Udina."

Shepard began to realize just what they meant when they described his newly earned title as a symbol of 'independence' and 'self-reliance.' It did not seem they were prepared to offer any material support. Even so, he wasn't about to back out now. "I'll find him," he said resolute.

The councilors respectfully bowed their heads in a gesture they hadn't extended the first time around. Tevos spoke as the others departed and the lights dimmed once more. "This meeting of the council is adjourned."

Once the figurative dust had settled, Captain Anderson extended an open hand in congratulation. Shepard accepted the offer graciously. "Congratulations, Commander," he said, tone far less sullen than it had been that morning.

Before Shepard could respond, Udina began calculating their next moves. "We have a _lot_ of work to do, Shepard," he said without as much as a word of gratitude for saving his career. "You're going to need a ship, a crew, armaments and supplies."

Shepard smirked. "It'd be nice to be properly supplied for once in my career."

Anderson almost sounded downright happy. "The Alliance will cover whatever expenses you have. This is big for all of us."

Udina held his hand to his chin as he peered toward the captain, who nodded somewhat reluctantly in response. "What do you think of the _Normandy_, Commander?"

"It's an over-engineered bucket, Ambassador," Shepard answered coyly. "And it belongs to Captain Anderson."

Anderson pressed the inquiry. "It's also the perfect ship for a spectre," he said. "It's fast, nimble and damn-near invisible."

"_Sir,_" Shepard shook his head. "It's _your_ ship. I can hitch a ride, but I'm not a captain."

Udina dismissed the comment. "We cannot have a conflict of interest aboard our first spectre's vessel of choice," he said. "Whatever vessel you command will be _yours_."

"There's plenty of ships in the fleet, Commander," Anderson reassured. "The _Normandy_ should be yours."

Shepard smiled insincerely. One minute he was a pariah and the next minute he was bumping his captain off his own ship's roster. In these sorts of situations, he had a habit of deflecting. "You sure you don't just want to step off before it explodes?"

Anderson chuckled lightly. "The thought had crossed my mind."

Without waiting for a real answer, Udina moved on with his preparations. "That covers the ship," he presumed. "Now you'll need a crew."

Anderson nodded. "I'm sure most of the _Normandy_'s crew will be happy to stay aboard. We were lightly staffed, though. You could use a few additions."

Shepard glanced up at the balcony, the turian and the quarian chatting animatedly with Kaidan and Williams. He sighed to himself. "I can think of a few."

Tali was having a hard time controlling her excitement as she and Garrus were escorted to the _Normandy_'s docking bay. Even trying her damnedest to maintain at least a façade of stoicism like the detective, she still had a bounce in her step—at least, as much as digitigrades legs would permit. She wasn't quite sure what to say in a situation like this. Then again, Commander Shepard was the first human spectre, so there hadn't _ever_ been a situation like this. She had settled on expressing gratitude at regular intervals.

Garrus wasn't so enthusiastic. He'd put a lot at stake for his investigation, and now the only way to continue it was to play along with the charade. He'd immediately requested a sabbatical following the induction, which was promptly granted when he mentioned the word "spectre." Shepard seemed reluctant to bring either of them along, but he clearly held the most reservations about the turian. Spectres had a policy of setting old grudges and histories aside for the common good. Perhaps the commander was executing his newfound duty in line with those new ideals. More likely, he had no idea what he was doing and he needed whatever help he could get. Either way, Garrus wasn't going to let Saren out of his sights, even if it meant answering to a human for a while.

An increasingly awkward silence engulfed the group as they took the elevator to the Zakera docks. The fact that the Citadel's elevators had to traverse what seemed like miles of geography at speeds slow enough that their occupants didn't become stains on the ceiling only served to highlight the oppressive quiet. Despite their physical proximity to one another, Tali wasn't accustomed to people maintaining such a cold distance. On the flotilla, gossip was almost the rule of law. Everyone got into everyone else's business, and even the most formal matters were treated much more casually than she'd observed here on the Citadel. It was jarring—disconcerting, really—to witness her new crewmates showing such disinterest in one another. She wanted to break the silence.

"I can't express how much I appreciate this," she turned to the commander, attempting to express the sentiment anyway.

Shepard couldn't tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic with only the outlines of wide, luminous eyes visible from behind her mask. "Don't worry about it," he shrugged. The elevator's other occupants found an even greater awkwardness in unwittingly eavesdropping on the conversation. "You serve on many ships?"

"I was _born_ on one—the _Rayya_," she said.

"Explains the name," Williams muttered to herself, attempting in vain to stem the conversation.

"It was years before I ever _left_ the ship," Tali continued. She was enjoying the opportunity to share far too much to notice the sarcasm. "But I've never been a full-fledged member of a crew—until now, anyway."

Shepard nodded as the elevator came to a gentle stop and its doors opened with a hiss. "You'll be working under Engineer Adams on Deck 3," he said as the party disembarked and began their short walk toward the Alliance docks. "Just follow his instructions and don't worry if you don't know how to do something."

The conversation died shortly thereafter, the commander focusing more of his thoughts on just how far over his head this assignment had gone. The group spread out as they traversed the docks, smaller conversations breaking out on occasion but amounting to little more than discussing the interstellar equivalent of the weather. Finally, they reached the Alliance checkpoint with a familiar, red-plated Krogan leaning casually against a bulkhead.

"Shepard," the krogan greeted as the commander approached, his company proceeding single-file through the checkpoint's screening.

"Wrex," the commander responded with suspicion. "Surprised to see _you're_ still here."

"Funniest thing," Wrex grinned. "C-Sec dropped the investigation into Fist's death. They ruled it an 'accident,' I think."

"How convenient," Shepard lined his words with overt distrust. "What do you want?"

"Saw you on the vids," he smiled. "Going after Saren, right? They usually don't announce those things publicly. It gives the prey a head-start."

"I don't see how that's your concern."

Wrex crossed his arms and glanced out at the station's wards through the bay window. "Saren has a sizeable price on his head," he said. "Pissed a _lot_ of people off. Some of those people look to _me_ about this sort of thing."

Shepard didn't care for the intrigue. "Just tell me what you're getting at, Wrex."

Most people would take such a direct attitude as an affront. The krogan respected it. "He's expecting you. He'll be ready for you. You need me."

Shepard had a sense of déjà vu. "I get my job done and you get paid," he reiterated their prior conversation. "And you think he isn't prepared for you, too?"

Wrex smirked through sharp, broken teeth. "He _can't_ prepare for me," his voice echoed through the hall.

Shepard sighed to himself. He didn't like the idea of bringing a krogan any more than bringing a turian but if he had one he might as well have the other, not to mention he needed all the help he could get. "You'd be willing to work for me?" he neglected to give a firm answer.

"I'm willing to work _with_ you. I'm not some lackey," Wrex said, pointing a thumb dismissively to the rest of the team, now waiting on the other side of the checkpoint with a mutual look of confusion. "I don't do your chores. You tell me what to shoot and I shoot."

Shepard shook his head and stared at his feet. This was a bad idea, and it was going to bite him in the ass. "Fine," he said. "But you don't shoot until I tell you to shoot. No more surprises. Clear?"

Wrex approached the checkpoint much to its employees' dismay. Shepard waved him through and followed. "Have it your way," Wrex said, setting off nearly every scanner in the booth. Shepard convinced the checkpoint's operators to overlook the krogan with a quick flash of his fancy new credentials.

Through the checkpoint, Wrex walked through the middle of the awaiting group, forcing them to step aside to make way for his significant frame. Shepard passed through shortly thereafter. Wrex already seemed to know the way to _Normandy_, which was more worrisome than it should have been. Williams shared the sentiment as she approached the commander, the rest of the group gossiping to themselves.

"You can't be serious, sir," the chief shook her head.

"He offered and I accepted," the commander shrugged. "Just—you know—try not to piss him off."

"Great," she rolled her eyes, "because the turian and the mask weren't enough to handle. Now we need a giant, pissed-off turtle just to even it out."

"Who's '_we_,' exactly?" Shepard rebuked. "You've been on the ship for a day, and you're already complaining about new recruits?"

"I'm _Alliance_," she said.

Shepard dismissed the comment and proceeded to the _Normandy_, the rest of the team in tow. By the time they had arrived, Wrex was intimidating one of the Alliance guards posted outside the ship's airlock. Shepard was quick to clear the situation up, but wasn't sure if it was evidence for Wrex's restraint or his temper. He didn't know enough about krogan to judge. They each proceeded through the docking bridge and through the outer airlock, silently waiting through the decontamination cycle before finally being admitted back aboard.

The ship-board VI had already been adjusted for the change in command. "_The commanding officer is aboard_," it announced happily through the ship's intercom. "_XO Pressly stands relieved._" Shepard hadn't even considered the bump-up for the navigator. Pressly must've been pleased.

Shepard looked to his new, would-be subordinates and pointed toward the stairwell at the rear of the deck. "Food and sleeper-pods on Deck 2, armory and engineering on Deck 3," he said matter-of-factly. "Please don't break anything." They casually made their way into the bowels of the ship, Tali in particular taking the opportunity to ogle every terminal and readout within range. Shepard turned to the cockpit and greeted Helmsman Moreau, still sitting attentively at his station.

"Told you they were trouble," Joker sniped from behind a series of glowing orange panels and readouts. "And now they've got you sucked into their mess, too."

Shepard leaned against the back of the copilot's seat, looking out the fore viewport. "I'd say you were right, but I don't want to encourage you," he muttered tiredly, exhausted from the day's events. "How's the crew taking it?"

"Several servicemen requested transfers the moment they saw the vids. Pressly's got the full brief for you." the pilot explained. "All the senior staff are behind you one hundred percent, commander. They know what's on the line after Eden Prime."

"And you?"

Joker pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes with a smile. "Leave the _Normandy_? I don't care if you put Jenkins in charge. I'm here."

Shepard gave the helmsman a thankful pat on the shoulder before departing back toward the CIC. There were more faces than he'd remembered, a far cry from the skeleton-crew he'd grown accustomed to. Every station was manned and at-the ready, newly assigned marines guarding the halls and the crew chattering excitedly amongst themselves as they worked. Pressly was behind the galaxy map, calibrating its navigation systems if its flickering and stuttering were any indication. "Charles," the commander said happily as he approached.

Navigator Pressly jumped, standing and saluting dutifully with a wide smile at the greeting. "Sir," he replied.

Shepard returned the salute before standing at-ease, leaning up against the rounded line of consoles. "So _that_ happened," he said, chuckling lightly.

"I saw the vids," Pressly replied. Everyone had seen them, apparently. "Udina sent a few dossiers our way—Saren and Benezia. They had a few suggestions on where to start." His formal tone gave way quickly. "Looking forward to the assignment, sir."

Shepard nodded. "What have we got to show for it?"

Pressly's smile widened even further as he tapped his station's terminal, bringing up an entire litany of updates. "Full crew compliment, fully stocked armory and med-bay and top-level access to Alliance networks," he reported.

"The Alliance is really putting everything behind this, huh?"

"Yes, sir," Pressly confirmed ecstatically. "Oh, and we have a tank."

Shepard blinked, catching his jaw falling agape before composing himself. "A tank?" he asked incredulously.

"They stowed it down in the cargo bay," he continued. "An M35 Mako 'rapid deployment vehicle.' State-of-the-art."

"Do we have someone who knows how to drive it?" Shepard asked, his awe fading at the realization.

Pressly's smile faded somewhat. "Well…" he muttered. "Don't you?"

"Fantastic," Shepard shook his head. He loved the Alliance, but it had a way of making decisions without really thinking them through. "Just forward the manual to my quarters." He took to his new station atop a platform overlooking the galaxy map and the rest of the CIC. The map spun leisurely as he leaned against its railing. "Alright," he said. "Let's get started."


	6. Chapter 5

Artemis

They were six days out of port and they had nothing to show for it. The Council had forwarded information on Matriarch Benezia, including relevant details on her daughter: Dr. Liara T'Soni, a xenoarcheologist whose most recent transactions indicated she was mounting an expedition somewhere in the Artemis Tau star-cluster. It may have been anthropocentric of him to assume, but Shepard figured—if anyone—the Matriarch's daughter would know of her and Saren's whereabouts. The problem was that Artemis Tau happened to be a big place. The crew had managed to narrow the systems of interest down to four, but it took hours to properly survey each world in each system—dozens in total. FTL travel-time to non-relay systems was painfully slow, to make matters worse. All the while, reports of further geth attacks had been springing up across the Traverse and a number of colonies had simply dropped out of contact altogether. The crew was frustrated, to say the least. Tensions were palpable between the human and non-human staff, who had thus far made a policy of avoiding one another. The senior staff had been questioning the decision to bring them along with varying degrees of tact and volume.

Shepard sat awake atop his private bunk during the tail hours of third watch. He'd had nightmares before, not to mention the occasional bout with insomnia but, ever since Eden Prime, he hadn't been able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time. He spent most of his evenings in the mess, passing the time between surveys by chatting with whoever was still awake at the time. Tonight was looking to be no different. He silently hoped to himself that someone remembered to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

He stood from his modest bed with creaks and cracks in his joints. He was the only person on the ship with a private room, so he could hardly complain about its size or accommodations. The truth was he'd been living out of a duffel bag for years, so his standards had already been exceeded at the four walls and the mattress. There were a few perks, though. He had a private desk near the entrance of the room, far more convenient than the terminal stations out in the CIC. A small bookshelf adorned the corner, although the age of print had long ended. It was filled sparsely with what few sentimental trinkets he kept—academy graduation papers, challenge coins, a few pictures from former postings, that sort of thing. The only non-military souvenir he'd kept was an old and tiny model starship from the goose-chase era of pre-FTL travel. It was crudely assembled and unpainted. He'd acquired it as a child, shortly before the discovery of the Charon Relay and the first contact to follow. It was hard to grasp the idea that he'd lived through a time before all of this, albeit briefly. It was even more difficult to imagine how this brave new world became normal so quickly.

He dressed himself back into his uniform—standard crew flightsuit. The Alliance had given him a fresh set of dress-blues for the command, but he never cared for them like the captain had. He felt like he was already on shaky ground, captaining a ship without a captain's bars. Walking around in full dress seemed a step too far. Besides, he wasn't really answering to the Alliance anymore. He was a spectre now, for whatever that had been worth. He had nearly limitless authority to pursue his goals. That authority presumably covered the choice in fashion.

From his solitary quarters, he stepped out into the commons of Deck 2, mostly devoid of life at this particular hour. To call it a "commons" was an overstatement. There were a few personal lockers dug into the side of the medbay's bulkhead, two rows of sleeper pods at the fore of the ship and a handful tables serving as the ship's mess. Tali was sitting alone at the table furthest aft of the ship, tapping away at a small datapad as she had been most nights since they'd left dock. He'd been surprised by her. Engineer Adams had only good things to say about her technical expertise in the engine room. The rest of the crew was more wary of keeping a quarian onboard, Pressly being chief among them. Quarians had reputations ranging anywhere from scavenging nomads to wandering thieves and the _Normandy_ was the only one of her kind. Most of the crew didn't even trust having a turian onboard, and the turians actually helped design the thing.

The commander sat quietly at the opposite side of her table, interrupting her studies. "What have you got there?" he asked casually, motioning to the datapad held in her three-fingered hands.

She flipped the tablet around in one hand, showing an array of complex and indecipherable diagrams on its screen. "Circuit layouts for the drive-core outputs," she said, the answer flying far above the commander's head. "I think I can rout the overflow through the weapons' heat sinks—maybe let us run the stealth drive for a few more minutes in a pinch."

The ship shuddered once more, its lights pulsing briefly before adjusting back to normal illumination. Shepard pointed a thumb upward with a half-hearted grin. "Can you do anything about _that_?"

She looked about as confused as a girl behind a mask could look. "Why _would_ I?" she asked. "It's not affecting any critical systems."

"It's affecting my calm," Shepard joked.

She gave a polite laugh at the comment. "Back home, when the bulkheads buckle under our feet, we know the drive-core is still working." She sat the datapad aside at the edge of the table. "Peace and quiet are the deadliest things aboard a ship."

Shepard nodded. "So I guess you're right at home here, then."

"Not entirely," she said. "The _Normandy_ is amazing, but it's just so quiet—too quiet to sleep. In the fleet, we'd have three times the crew on a ship this size."

_Normandy_ was a diminutively sized frigate by Alliance standards. The notion of tripling the crew seemed absurd. The commanding officer was the only person aboard who wasn't relegated to sleep-shifts in one of the pods. Half the crew didn't even know one another; while one half worked, the other slept. The idea that it was under-staffed was hard to grasp, let alone that it was too quiet between the sputtering drive and the flashing lights. "Over two dozen crew is too quiet?"

She shook her head. "It's not just the crew," she explained. "It's the ship. I know your people disagree, but the _Normandy_ runs too smoothly. Most of our ships are centuries-old. If you wake up to silence, it means you've lost an engine or an air scrubber. Here, it's all quiet outside of engineering." She shrugged casually. "It's disconcerting."

"I'll be sure the techs use thinner deck plating in the next model," the commander said with a facetious smirk as he stood. "Keep up the good work." He took toward what passed as a kitchen, stumbling slightly as he walked, honing in on the coffee pot—thankfully full. He poured himself a mug-full and took a quick swig. It was cold and it tasted like dirt, but it was enough to keep him alert for a few more hours. Satisfied, he took himself and his mug toward the elevator to Deck 3. Pressly rounded the corner, rather sprightly for a man his age. Shepard gave the XO a polite nod with his face half concealed behind porcelain. "Evening."

"_Morning_," Pressly corrected.

"How can you even tell out here?" Shepard smiled disarmingly, avoiding the need to explain how he'd lost track of the time.

"Oh, I don't know," Pressly answered wryly. "Maybe one of the clocks in the corner of every screen on the ship."

"Is that what those are for?" Shepard asked rhetorically as he side-stepped the navigator.

Pressly stopped the commander by the arm, stepping closer to the bulkhead for an illusion of privacy. "Listen, I know you don't want to hear it—"

"_Chuck_," Shepard shook his head. He really didn't want to hear it.

"I'm just saying we've got a lot of people in sensitive areas of the most advanced ship in our fleet." Pressly had been reciting this same concern for days, making slight alterations each time. His argument was more refined now that he'd had a week to work on it, though he'd already worn out the commander's dwindling patience. "I get that you want them here but I still think we should have a few of the marines keeping watch, _especially_ at hours like these."

"They aren't prisoners," Shepard declined the recommendation.

"They're _civilians_," Pressly retorted. "They're civilians on an experimental frigate filled with proprietary technology."

Shepard scoffed. "I don't recall armed escorts when we had _human_ civilians aboard."

Pressly ignored the comment. "They don't work for us," he pressed. "They're here for their own reasons. Hell, the Council only gave us this job because they had to."

"They aren't the Council," Shepard dismissed the navigator with a wave of his hand, ignoring attempts to reignite the plea as he made his way into the elevator. Pressly continued his argument from the other side of the elevator's threshold, but Shepard had tuned him out, rapidly jabbing the 'close door' button until it finally heeded his will. With Pressly's complaints secured behind several inches of steel, the elevator slowly hissed to life and made its way down to Deck 3. The commander had always questioned the need for an elevator in lieu of a stairwell but, since taking command, he quickly realized the elevator rides were the only moments of peace to be found aboard the ship. His moment of peace ended all too abruptly when the doors opened once more.

Stepping out onto the deck, the commander was greeted by Wrex's considerable bulk, meandering casually in circles around the cargo bay. Wrex meant it when he said he wasn't going to be a lackey. He was aboard as a hired gun and, without anything to shoot for the last week, he hadn't contributed anything at all to the welfare of the ship. He took his meals alone and spent all of his time pacing a hole in the floor. Krogan had a nasty reputation for bad behavior when they were stuck in the confines of a starship. Wrex simply had no behavior at all.

"Settling in?" Shepard asked with feigned interest, knowing the answer even as he heard it.

"Krogan don't settle," Wrex grunted, continuing his stomping stride.

Shepard watched briefly as the behemoth of a man wandered impatiently. "You need to relax," he suggested.

"Krogan don't relax," Wrex reiterated. He stopped momentarily to glare at the commander, his red eyes squinted. "Did I make a mistake by coming here?" he asked, receiving only a casual shrug in return. He wasn't satisfied by the gesture. "Six days, and we haven't done _anything_."

"You knew Saren wouldn't be easy to find," Shepard held up a hand at the accusation. "We're just trying to catch our first break is all."

Wrex growled low at the excuse. "You aren't going to 'catch a break' by sitting on your hands," he snarled. "You find his friends and you hit them until they tell you where he is. And then you hit them some more."

"Seriously, Wrex," Shepard said, trying to maintain the façade of a commanding expression. If he was to be honest with himself, he didn't quite disagree with the sentiment. The Alliance, however, did. "Just relax. Talk to the crew or something. I'm sure you've got plenty of stories to tell."

Wrex remained visibly unsatisfied. "Stories, yeah," he muttered. "Like that one time when the turians and the salarians sterilized my entire species—I bet that'd be fun to tell." He glared across the bay toward Garrus, casually minding the Mako's suspension and unaware of the exchange. "Seems like the right crowd to get a few laughs."

The commander had little patience left, waving the much larger krogan off. "Just keep your gun at the ready," he ordered as he strode toward the armory bench.

"Oh, I will," Wrex replied beneath his breath.

Williams had been attending the ship's armory, maintaining and sorting their now respectable stockpile of munitions. She was elbow-deep in a disassembled Avenger-series rifle as the commander approached with a casual pat on the shoulder. She had been adjusting surprisingly well to life aboard _Normandy_. She spent her first few days aboard being unnecessarily formal, but Shepard had asked for very little in the way of formality during his brief stint in command. She still wasn't comfortable sharing her deck with a veritable zoo, but at least they were quiet.

"Commander," she nodded in his direction, keeping her focus on the intricate firearm splayed out across the table. "Need something?"

"Just checking in," Shepard shook his head casually. "How's it going down here?"

She smiled listlessly. "If we'd had this much firepower on Eden Prime I doubt we'd be in this mess."

"Desperate times, right?"

Her voice carried a more serious concern. "How desperate are we?"

"Well, I'd settle for some turian-shaped footprints at this point," Shepard maintained an insincerely jovial tone. "He's a talented bastard, I'll give him that. The Council can't find a damn thing on him."

"Or they just aren't telling us," she added. "Look, about that—"

Shepard interrupted, cradling his head in his hand with a fair degree of frustration. "You're turning me into a broken record, Ash."

"Alright, fair enough," Williams conceded, slowly beginning her rifle's reassembly. "You tell me to work with a turian, I'll work with a turian," she shrugged.

"Well, don't sound so excited," Shepard rolled his eyes. His omnitool beeped and buzzed to life before he could come up with a proper joke, loudly enough to draw the curiosity of everyone in the cargo bay. To be fair, after six days of system-hopping and scanning, it didn't take very much to get people curious. The commander tapped his wrist and faced away from the crew's prying eyes in a feigned attempt at privacy. "What?" he muttered into his wrist.

"Yeah, uh," Joker's voice came through the comm with the same awkwardness he'd used when telling the captain something had gone wrong. "There's been an altercation on Deck 2."

Hardly twenty minutes into the day and somebody already got into a fight. It wasn't much of a surprise, though. Marines didn't fare much better on a small ship than krogan. "_What_?" Shepard reiterated.

"Jenkins broke it up, but they're still pretty pissed. I had them sent to your quarters." Joker was being even more dodgy than usual.

"I don't have time for that," Shepard sneered as if his expression could be conveyed through a radio. "Just tell Pressly to deal with it."

"Yeah, about that…" The bigger picture was starting to unveil itself. It wasn't exactly customary for someone at Joker's rank to handle that sort of thing unless the XO was _involved_. Shepard wasn't the only one putting the pieces together as Williams held her hand to her mouth, muffling a quiet snicker.

"Pressly punched someone?" Shepard guessed, deadpan.

"Someone punched Pressly," Joker corrected, equally emotionless.

Williams was far too amused with the call. "Oh _shit_," she whispered quietly, turning away and quickly busying herself with her rifle once more. Wrex was far less subtle with his own eavesdropping, emitting a bellowing laugh at the statement.

"_Who_?" Shepard demanded curtly.

###

Tali sat quietly, hands across her knees, at the opposite end of the commander's modestly sized desk. Pressly sat beside her in mutual silence, staring directly ahead at nothing in particular. Shepard sat across the pair, slowly shifting his unblinking focus between the two. Human expressions and body language were difficult to discern, especially considering how facetious they seemed to be. She could probably disregard facetiousness at the moment. He let out a ragged sigh through the impenetrably awkward silence.

"Commander," Pressly started.

"Did I ask you to talk?" Shepard growled with a pointed finger toward the navigator. Pressly would have answered _that_ question, but it probably would have done him more harm than good. The commander leaned against his desk and turned to the quarrelsome quarian, squinting his eyes and rubbing his temples in frustration. "You punched my XO," he stated matter-of-factly.

Tali glanced briefly to the navigator at her side, getting nothing in return. "I didn't _punch_ him," she started slowly, unsure whether she had been asked to talk. Receiving no pointed finger, she continued carefully. "I was trying to push him out of the way and it sort of went to his face." Her words were trailing off by the time she'd finished the statement.

Shepard had stopped looking at them by that point, staring down at the scuffed surface of his desk with his forehead cradled in his hand. "And why were you trying to push him?" he asked disinterestedly.

"He was shouting at me," Tali answered simply.

Shepard waved an open hand between the two and tilted his glance toward the navigator. "Why were you shouting at her?"

Pressly swallowed hard before speaking. "Sir, she was reading classified specifications on the IES stealth drive."

"I brought her on as an _engineer_, Charles. I'm almost certain she should know how the ship works."

"That's what I—" Tali interjected.

"Oh, danger!" Shepard interrupted with another pointed finger in her direction. After a few more moments of awkward silence, Shepard had made it clear he didn't care who instigated the incident. His focus returned to Tali. "This man is the executive officer aboard _my _ship," he said coldly. "I don't care if he wants you to stand on one foot and recite the alphabet backward. If he tells you to do something, _I_ told you to do something. Is that clear?"

She nodded wordlessly, after which the commander casually slid a small datapad her way across the desk. She took the pad cautiously. "What's this?"

"Schematics for the Mako," Shepard answered, leaning back in his chair with arms crossed. "I want you to know everything there is to know about it, inside and out. If I want to quiz you on it tomorrow, you had better damn well have the right answers." She nodded curtly with the pad in her hands. "Dismissed," Shepard waved her toward the door. Tali made for the exit as quickly as she could without going into a full-blown sprint. Pressly was not far behind when the commander's voice echoed through the cabin's metal walls. "_Not you_."

Pressly stopped and sighed to himself, turning back at attention. "Sir?" he stood formally as the quarian slid out the door.

"You want to talk about this?" Shepard asked rhetorically. To say he sounded angry would have been an understatement. "We're going to talk about it." He punctuated each word almost violently. "_Sit down_."

The door slid closed behind the quarian just in time to muffle the commander's shouting. It had been a stressful week for everyone aboard the ship, and their disagreement clearly hadn't helped matters. She had thought she drew the short-straw with the commander but—judging by the sounds of admonishment rattling the cabin's exterior wall—perhaps he let her off easy. She didn't know much about Earth spirituality, but she was fairly certain she heard a few deities' names being taken in vain.

Datapad in-hand, she retreated back toward the cargo elevator, idly thumbing through its circuit diagrams as the platform slowly lowered back down into the cargo bay. Starships were one thing, but she was no auto-mechanic. The human tank seemed about as strange as the humans themselves. She chalked it up to the stress and a lack of sleep, but she couldn't keep the thoughts of home at bay. This was hardly what she was expecting from a star-hopping adventure.

The elevator settled and the doors opened, admitting the quarian entry into the bay. It was fairly evident that everyone was well aware of the incident. If Chief Williams' sideways glance didn't say so then Wrex's low, rumbling laugh certainly did. "And here I thought I'd be the one to break the ice," he said from across the bay, leaning leisurely against a row of comparatively miniscule lockers. "You leave a mark?"

Tali ignored him. It just wasn't wise to accept compliments from a krogan. If a krogan thought you were good in a fight, it just meant they wanted to fight you. Fighting a krogan was equally unwise. She avoided eye contact with the brute across the room, pretending to focus on the datapad as she approached the Mako. Garrus had been working on its main cannon for days, with permission of course. Evidently, he'd served his compulsory term in the turian military as a combat engineer before he joined C-Sec. He also had an exceptional distaste for human engineering, if his alterations to the Mako's turret were any indication.

"Need any help?" she asked the turian perched atop the tank.

He peered down at her coldly, irritated at the interruption. "No," he answered curtly.

She persisted, fearing the repercussions if she pushed her luck aboard the ship any further. "The commander said I should help with the tank," she explained politely. "If there's anything I can do—"

"You have many tanks in your fleet?" Garrus interrupted. Tali blinked silently for a moment before shaking her head in response. "Then there's nothing you can help with." He tore an indistinct piece of metal and wires from the cannon's maintenance panel, throwing it to the deck unceremoniously before promptly replacing it with another, hopefully better indistinct piece of metal and wires. "Not that there's much anyone can do to this thing," he complained. "It's no wonder they got their asses kicked at Shanxi with garbage like this."

"So I suppose you don't like serving aboard a human ship," Tali mused quietly, taking seat against the tank's rear wheel and scrolling through her datapad's diagrams.

"I'm _not_ serving aboard a human ship," Garrus corrected from above, the sounds of soldering punctuating his words. "I booked _passage_ aboard a human ship."

"You aren't following a human's orders?"

"I am only for as long as I need to," Garrus answered, closing the gun's access panel and hopping back down to the deck. His focus remained on his work, tapping away at a nearby readout to calibrate the gun's modifications.

"It's not what I was expecting," Tali concluded. She wasn't oblivious to the fact that the turian had no interest in holding down a conversation, rather she simply didn't know who else to be talking to aboard the ship. The humans were polite but, as the day's events had made abundantly clear, they were also highly suspicious of outsiders. She wasn't sure if it was because she was quarian or if distrust was just their natural disposition. Garrus was no more talkative, though he seemed less distrustful and more disinterested in anything but the task at hand. And Wrex was just Wrex.

Tali continued her study of the tank's systems for several hours, interrupted only by the ship's shudder as it dropped in and out of FTL. A few jumps in, she was beginning to understand Garrus' frustration with the thing. Sure, the Migrant Fleet had no need for land-based vehicles, but even she could see how inefficiently designed the Mako was. Despite its slick looks, it was anything but aerodynamic. It eschewed a traditional engine in favor of a miniature mass effect core which, while covering its energy demands, severely threw off the center of gravity. By everything she'd seen, the only word she could use to describe the design was "wobbly." It would be a miracle if it didn't do a back flip every time the main gun was fired.

Despite her sense of obligation, she abandoned the pursuit by the afternoon, returning to work in the engine room instead. By then word of her disagreement with Navigator Pressly had spread throughout the ship, though she was surprised at the crew's reaction. Adams and the rest of the engineering crew had seemed greatly amused by the story, going so far as to share other similar stories they'd heard during their careers. A few of their stories _did_ end with the words "dishonorably discharged," but the consensus was that the Alliance couldn't court-martial a quarian.

"So I'm not going to get kicked off the ship?" Tali asked, idly triaging the ship's power output following a jump.

"Nah," Adams answered casually. "Tensions always flare on long-term assignments. Pressly won't bring it up again, trust me."

"How do you know?"

Adams chuckled to himself. "Because two weeks into the _Normandy_'s shakedown,he got into a similar argument and the old XO got a black eye."

Tali stopped at the implication. "But," she started tentatively. "Wasn't the old XO—" she trailed off.

"And now they're thick as thieves," Adams smiled reassuringly. "Trust me, it'll blow over."

Tali shrugged, returning to her work. "What were they arguing about?"

"Poker," Adams smirked. "The commander cheated and the cap'n tossed every deck of cards right out the airlock." His omnitool sprang to life—an alert from the CIC. Evidently they'd finally found something with an atmosphere to discharge the drive-core's static buildup. "Still need a new deck," he said, effectively ending the conversation as he began preparations.

Tali's omnitool blinked into life shortly thereafter with a curt page. "_Cargo bay_," it read. "_Pop quiz_." She nodded courteously to Adams as she departed back into the bay, which was much livelier than she'd seen it in the last several days. Wrex was, unsurprisingly, in the midst of a disagreement with the commander. More surprising was that Williams seemed to be backing the krogan's side of the dispute. The commander himself had traded his BDU's for an onyx-colored EVA suit, a single red and white stripe lining his right arm. He seemed disinterested in the debate as he snapped his helmet into place atop the suit's collar.

The commander started slightly at the quarian. "Took your time," he turned away from his dissidents. "You read that manual?"

"I _started_ it," she answered noncommittally.

"Close enough," Shepard said, pulling open the tank's hatch and waving an open hand toward its interior. "Get in."

Tali shuddered slightly when she realized this was the quiz. "Hold on—" she delayed.

"Garrus!" Shepard ignored her response. "That gun going to work?"

Garrus smiled. "Of course," he said, his mood drastically improved. "Can't say much for the deceleration thrusters, though."

"We'll figure it out," Shepard nodded toward the turian. "You're on the cannon. Get in."

"What was that about deceleration thrusters?" Tali interjected once more, again being denied an answer.

"Commander," Williams chimed in. "You do realize this thing was designed solely for human use, right?" She raised her hands before the admonishments began, twiddling her fingers to emphasize her point. "I'm fairly certain the gunner should have five fingers is all."

"Oh, I fixed that, too," Garrus shouted out as he climbed into the gunner's nest. Williams rolled her eyes.

"_I'm_ the only one here who's good in a fight," Wrex added. "If anyone should be going—"

"I don't think you'd fit in here, buddy," Shepard declined, finally helping Tali aboard and directing her toward the systems station. "Something goes wrong, you can feel free to jump on down and join us," he offered with a hefty degree of sarcasm.

"_Commander_," Williams pleaded one last time.

Shepard paid no mind. "Clear the deck!" he shouted, slamming the tank's hatch closed and taking his place at the driver's seat. The rover whirred to life, systems panels lighting up and illuminating its cramped interior one by one with a faint orange glow. The exterior displays clicked on just in time for the trio to see the rest of the crew backing away slowly. The cargo bay doors slid open before them, a hot blast of air invading the otherwise precisely temperature-controlled ship. Jagged, rocky mountains and luminous lava flows were barely visible through the smoke and the dust outside of the ship—a world called Therum.

The commander leaned an arm against his seat, looking back to his company. "Picked up a distress beacon originating from this world!" he shouted through the sound of the wind roaring outside of the tank's plating. "A couple geth signatures in orbit when we arrived! Just a few NGO outposts on the surface, mostly archaeological digs!"

"You think we'll find our Asari here?" Garrus asked from within the gunner's nest.

"Hope so," Shepard answered. "If not, I'd sure as hell like to know what's got the geth so interested."

Tali would be lying if she said she was paying attention. It was difficult enough to keep her hands from shaking at her station. "You know how to drive this thing, right?" she questioned nervously.

Shepard looked back at her, a raised brow visible from behind the glass visor of his helmet. "Sure," he answered vaguely, turning forward once more to face the controls. "How hard can it be, right?"

The answer served no comfort to the quarian, who braced anxiously against the plating as the tank slowly rolled forward toward the open bay doors. "Wait, we're going to _land_ first, aren't we?"

Before she could receive an answer, the Mako rolled right over the edge of the loading ramp and plummeted into free-fall a good half-mile above the surface of the world. Even with the tank's inertial dampeners, it was impossible to keep from hovering precariously above the seat as the tank dropped like a rock. Warning bells and alarms rang through the metallic interior and there were at least seven different altitude displays screaming in unison. Surface drawing near, the rover shook violently as the deceleration thrusters thankfully kicked into action, firing off in precisely calculated bursts to slow their descent. The quarian couldn't tell if everything was working even as she sat behind the engineering console. If anything, she'd be more studious in the future.

The Mako slammed and rolled into the rocky terrain with six wheels and a downright unreasonable amount of force. They'd landed on solid ground a few hundred meters away from a lava flow if the orbital telemetry was to be trusted. Shepard checked himself and his companions over with a few quick glances. Nobody seemed injured, though Tali was visibly terrified even through the opaque mask. With a flip of a switch he engaged the wheels and slowly rolled the rover toward higher ground for a better view. A snaking series of lava flows came into view, stretching out over the horizon in every direction. On-board sensors flickered erratically, unable to provide accurate data. Therum didn't have any notable phenomena which would disrupt long-range scans, but the commander recalled similar reports of failing equipment in the aftermath of Eden Prime. They were only several klicks away from the distress signal's origin, and likely whatever the geth brought to the table.

After finally regaining her composure, Tali glared pointedly toward the commander. "What the _hell_ were you thinking?" she demanded.

Shepard glanced back at her through the window's reflection, keeping his attention on the task at hand. "You really didn't get that far into the manual, did you?" he supplied jokingly. "The Mako is designed for sub-orbital drops. Why did you think it had thrusters?"

"I was trying _not_ to think about it," she muttered.

They proceeded cautiously toward the origin of the distress beacon, taking the scenic route to bypass the numerous lava flows that lined the plains. The closer they got, the more the Mako's systems acted up. They lost communication with _Normandy_ a few klicks out, much to Tali's dismay. Shepard maintained a calm befitting of a commander, but even he was sweating beneath the helmet by the time they were running on cached information. He blamed the heat.

Rounding the final hill, a figure was visible in the distance. Though non-humanoid, it was clearly of geth design—a large quadruped, it was a twisted cross between a turtle and a giraffe with the recognizable "flashlight" peering ominously from what one could call its head. Worst of all, it was staring them down as they rode toward it from with the tank's distant safety. It wasn't immediately hostile, but it was certainly curious judging by its slow crawl toward them.

Shepard turned back to Tali tentatively. "You got a name for that thing?"

"It's geth," Tali shrugged curtly.

Garrus peered down from his nest. "Anything more helpful?" he asked.

"It's been three centuries," Tali sniped. "It's no surprise they've got some new toys by now."

Shepard rolled his eyes and slowly rolled the tank forward. "Garrus," he barked upward. "Shoot it."

Garrus smirked toothily, turning the cannon toward the hulking armature in the distance. "Finally."

The Mako's main cannon zeroed in on the distant figure slowly stomping toward them. It wasn't strictly a cannon, per-se, but it was an easier colloquialism than "mounted magnetic mass accelerator." The rover's crew could hear the gun's magnetic chamber spinning to life, echoing rather loudly throughout its metallic hull. With a resounding _bang_ and a resonate shake, the cannon fired triumphantly across the plane, its slug leaving a trail of dust torn from the surface in its wake. And, rather unceremoniously, that slug created a dramatic impact about twenty meters off-target.

Dumbfounded, the commander watched as the hulking armature glanced back nonchalantly at the impact before resuming its course. "Uh, Garrus," he frowned. "You missed."

By the time the turian would deign to respond, the dust had already settled. "_I_ didn't miss," he clarified. "The targeting algorithm missed."

Shepard was nonplussed. "You broke my gun," he accused.

"I did not break your—" Garrus attempted to defend himself, interrupted by the sight of what appeared to be a hot blue slug hurdling toward them from the armature's direction. With the impact, what little of the Mako's systems were still functioning gave way and the trio found themselves sitting in their own dark, heavily fortified coffin.

Barely containing his instinct for panic, Shepard fumbled with the unresponsive controls, eliciting no movement from the vehicle. "EMP," he noted grimly. "Tali!"

The quarian had torn away an access panel and dived into the rover's circuitry the moment the trio lost power. "I'm trying!" she said, her work eliciting the occasional flickering screen and dashed hope as the armature lurched ever forward, most assuredly readying another volley.

"Engines and thrusters!" Shepard barked succinctly as he unbuckled from his seat and pried the forward viewports open. Most people considered glass windows a structural weakness in the age of digital picture and telemetry. He was just happy nobody listened to those people. The harsh, orange light of Therum penetrated the cabin with the viewports open, doing less for morale with the sight of the geth armature significantly closer now.

"Engines and thrusters don't do much without a _gun_!" Garrus contended from above.

"The gun you _broke_," Shepard reiterated.

Tali's efforts were rewarded with the sound of the engines returning to life, albeit with a noticeable sputter. "Got it!" she exclaimed with more than a little pride. "It won't last long, but I'll route power from weapons to keep us in the green."

Outside, the armature was rearing its head a few meters ahead, preparing to fire. "It'll wait," Shepard said, throwing the rover into gear manually and barreling forward, much to the chagrin of his compatriots judging by their sounds of protest. "Fore thrusters!" he ordered back to the quarian as the Mako's engine sputtered violently and its tires peeled against ash and obsidian.

"It'll overload our—" she argued briefly before being interrupted.

"Fore thrusters!" Shepard repeated more forcefully.

The Mako wobbled and stumbled toward the armature, dangerously unstable without its accompanying driver-assistance software. With no further protest, Tali fired the fore thrusters and sent the rover up on its back wheels, ramming the underbelly of the tank into the armature with very little grace. The tank collapsed forward back down onto its tires with the armature caught beneath its significant weight. A particularly satisfying crunch accompanied the motion, the geth's structure crumbling as the Mako once more sputtered out and settled atop its husk. The dust sank once more as the trio sat inside the powerless rover.

The commander could only hope turians and quarians didn't have great ears, because he could hear his own heart thumping against his ribs. He slowly leaned against the viewport to observe the damage. The armature wasn't moving and, if it was still alive, it had recanted its old ways and accepted a life of non-functionality. He leaned back against his seat, neglecting to confirm his compatriots' safety for fear they could see the trepidation in his eyes.

Garrus' voice echoed down from the now dysfunctional gunner's nest. "Did we just run it over?"

Shepard nodded, still staring blankly out the fore windows. "Yeah," he muttered. "Tali?"

"On it," she acknowledged, "again." She was surprisingly quick on the uptake despite her reluctance. "Can we not do that anymore?"

"No promises," Shepard feigned confidence.

###

Navigator Pressly leaned tentatively against the bulkhead of the _Normandy's_ bridge, eyeing a nearby screen displaying the Mako's movements tracked by all-seeing eyes of _Normandy_'s orbital telemetry suite. "Any luck?" he turned to the pilot.

"_Nada_," Joker shook his head. "They're on their own for now."

"Keep an eye on them," Pressly ordered. "Let me know if anything changes."

Joker nodded disinterestedly as he squinted at the image of the Mako below. "Huh," he grunted. "I think they just bum-rushed a geth."

Pressly sighed as he departed back toward the CIC with an informal wave. "Let me know if they're dead."

The navigator returned to the CIC, briefly eyeing his normal station before proceeding toward the commanding officer's station overlooking the galaxy map. Lieutenant Alenko joined him shortly, a casual concern coloring his movements. Pressly gave a simple, informal greeting, maintaining vigilant watch on what little _Normandy_ could make of the situation below. The Mako was moving again, thankfully, but they still couldn't establish communications through whatever jamming stations the geth had employed on the surface. The trio was making their final approach toward a small, inconspicuous dig-site—the origin of the distress beacon—when the lieutenant finally spoke.

"Is it just me," Kaiden started, "or does it seem like a bad idea to have the commanding officer gallivanting around in a tank off-ship?"

Pressly shrugged and scratched at what little hair he had left on the back of his head. "The Council didn't leave us much choice, I suppose," he answered. "We don't exactly have a battalion up here, and he _is_ the spectre."

"I just get the feeling we have no idea what we're doing."

Pressly simpered coyly. "That's because we have no idea what we're doing," he turned back and smiled at the lieutenant. It was hardly a comfort, but it was becoming implicitly obvious at this point.

Joker's voice piped through the intercom, hardly jovial. "_Pressly?_" he said, his actual voice still clearly audible alongside the comm. from across the deck. "_We've got something._"

Pressly sighed once more, returning languidly back toward the cockpit, Kaiden in tow. "What's the word?" he asked, ducking his head back through the bulkhead.

"A shuttle," Joker explained. "It's just loitering a few klicks from the site."

"Geth?" Kaiden interjected.

Joker shook his head. "It doesn't match any known geth signatures," he answered. "Looks like an old personnel transport."

Pressly tapped the lieutenant on the shoulder. "Get down to engineering," he ordered. "Tell Adams I want comms back, _now_." Kaiden nodded affirmatively as he turned and left the cockpit.

###

Therum's heat was made abundantly clear even through the sealed environment of the commander's EVA suit as the trio stepped out of the now-sporadically functional tank and into the orange Therum sun. Standing at the entrance to the dig-site, Shepard couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched. Granted the comms were still out there had to have been more geth lurking about, but they weren't as forthcoming as their EMP-throwing cohort. There wasn't much to see at the site's gate, but there were plenty of places to hide in a subterranean archeological complex.

"You're fixing it," the commander sniped back to his compatriots as they pried open the complex's doors with a loud hiss of decompression. "Both of you are fixing my tank."

Tali followed alongside the turian as they carved a path through the dark corridors of the site. "_I_ didn't break it!" she contended.

"It's not _broken_," Garrus added.

"You're the only one who read the manual," Shepard continued, ignoring the turian's addendum.

Therum was a geographically unstable world. Whatever structures were here before had long been buried in the world's constantly shifting obsidian and mineral deposits. All archaeological studies that took place did so well below the surface, made clear by the constant descent the trio made as they made their way through the complex's metal-lined, cavernous tunnels. On occasion, a distinctly alien ruin could be seen jutting out of the obsidian walls, each surrounded by a suite of computers and archeological equipment.

As could be expected from a turian, Garrus had thought to bring a rifle. Shepard and Tali, on the other hand, kept only sidearms due to the tank's already limited space. Despite this, the commander led the way with pistol in-hand, illuminating the way with a torch mounted to its underside. Perhaps it would have wiser to let Garrus take point, but his track-record wasn't exactly spotless on this deployment.

Further onward, the tunnels opened up into a more open cavern with recognizable prothean architecture jutting out from below like the desiccated bones of a long dead creature. A column of prothean-looking outcroppings and sizeable corridors was visible against the far wall of the cavern and one in particular was illuminated a pale, sickly green color. It seemed to be running on its own power, which was surprising given the length of time it'd been buried. Shepard led the trio silently down through the rocky dig toward the lit corridor ahead.

As they drew near, it was clear the illumination was more than a lightbulb. A shimmering, rippled and translucent green barrier prevented entry into the ruin proper. Shepard knocked against the barrier with the grip of his sidearm, earning a mild shock in return and eliciting a more primal noise of surprise—enough to garner a few looks of doubt from his followers. He backed away casually, turning to investigate the rest of the cavern. There were a number of more modern tents, work stations and a particular large piece of industrial equipment below, all of which were abandoned and none of which seemed to feature a 'turn off forcefield' button.

"Don't suppose you can hack prothean tech?" he asked, nodding to the quarian.

Tali gave a gesture of disaffirmation. "Not unless you've got a manual for that, too."

Much to their surprise, another voice faintly echoed through the other side of the barrier. "Hello?" it called out. It was an obviously female voice, but its inflection was strange and unduly calm. It was being translated.

Garrus and Tali inched closer to the barrier, more careful about touching than their commander had been. "Uhm, hello," Garrus called back awkwardly.

A woman stepped out into view, not entirely visible through rippling field. It was difficult to tell, but she seemed to be an asari. Her movements were timid, a far cry from the translator's uncharacteristic calm. "Who are you?" she asked, keeping her distance even behind the safety of whatever prothean security device was barricading the ruin.

"I'm Commander Shepard, Systems Alliance Navy," he introduced himself. "Dr. T'Soni, I presume?"

She either smiled or dislocated her own jaw in response. It was impossible to tell behind the distortions of the barrier, but it seemed reasonable to go with smile. "You got my message?"

"We caught a general distress from orbit, no message." Shepard corrected. "Fill us in."

She complied without question. "My team and I were trying to reestablish power to this complex when the synthetics stormed in." Even the translator managed to convey her sense of trepidation increasing with each word. "We tried to run. I, well…" she pointed toward the barrier surreptitiously. "I must have tripped something. I've been stuck in here since."

"And how long has it been?" Garrus asked.

"I don't know." Dr. T'Soni avoided eye contact as she spoke. "I can't exactly see the sunsets down here." Her voice drew quieter and quieter as the conversation continued. "The rest of my team…" she started, but failed to finish the sentiment. A slight bow of the head was enough. "I don't think this thing can be opened from this side," she changed the subject. "And I've had a lot of time to look."

"We'll figure something out, just stay calm." The commander gave a quick, incredulous glance toward the turian at his side.

Tali had wandered during the exchange, overlooking the cavern's camp for herself. One particular piece of industrial equipment served to spark inspiration. "Commander," she waved him over. "Do you know what that is?" she asked, pointing down toward the bulky piece of machinery. He shook his head wordlessly. "It's a mining laser," the quarian explained. "We've got dozens of them just like that on the fleet. We use them when—"

"What are you telling me, Tali?" Shepard interrupted.

She corrected herself, returning to the matter at hand. "It's what carved out this cavern." Her message still wasn't being received. She dumbed it down further. "It's very powerful."

"So, we shoot the laser at the barrier," Garrus suggested.

"I'm still standing behind it!" Dr. T'Soni shouted from behind. "I'm still back here, where you want to shoot the laser!" The trio ceded the point. Anything that could break the shield would likely be lethal, and they still needed information. It would be preferable to ask a few more questions before doing that sort of thing.

Garrus took the commander aside, facing away from the trapped asari. "Whether they wanted her dead or she's working with them," he said, "the geth wouldn't just see a shield and walk away. They're still here."

The commander agreed. "Not just the one, I'm guessing."

"We can't trust her," the turian muttered quietly.

"Just keep our new friend company for a while," he tapped the turian on the shoulder before heading down toward the encampment. "Let's get this thing working," he motioned for quarian to follow.

It became more and more apparent how unwieldy and weighty the mechanism really was as the pair approached. Thankfully, it seemed to be semi-automated, capable of limited mobility atop its own treads which made the Mako seem like a smooth ride by comparison. Excavation on a geologically unstable world like Therum required careful calculation, and was mind-numbingly slow. The commander did not intend to take the slow, careful approach.

"Can you get it working?" Shepard asked the engineer.

Tali nodded as she examined the laser's controls. "These things are simple," she explained. "Just point and shoot."

"Good," Shepard said, pointing a finger to the rock-face directly below their new asari friend's prison. "Shoot there."

"Please _don't!_" Dr. T'Soni's voice echoed once more from above. Evidently she could hear quite well. The commander hoped silently she had only just discovered that trait, considering their mistrust. "This is a very carefully excavated site, and these ruins are over fifty thousand years old! They are priceless!"

"We'll have you out soon!" Shepard shouted back, failing to provide any sort of comfort. Dr. T'Soni was hardly satisfied with the plan, but she didn't exactly have much clout from within the confines of the ancient alien hovel.

"Relax," Garrus tried to comfort her more sincerely. "We're professionals. We know exactly what we're doing." Despite that sincerity, his lies weren't any more convincing. "Liara, was it? You said you sent out a message?"

"Yes," she answered, willfully allowing the change in topic to distract from the incredibly stupid plan that was being enacted as they spoke. "We have a short-range transmitter for transferring data between sites," she motion back toward the equipment further within her chamber. "After I tripped the barrier, I tried to contact one of our other stations." She shrugged. "I couldn't reach anyone, so I set it to cycle through frequencies on a loop. I'm just glad you caught it."

Garrus examined the transmitter as best he could from the other side. "We didn't," he noted. "We caught a broad-band general distress from _orbit_. That thing is local."

"Right, but you—" the doctor stopped, her look of worry shifting toward suspicion. "How did you know my name?" she asked coldly.

"Heads up!" the commander shouted from below, ending the line of question as both Garrus and Dr. T'Soni quickly fled to whatever safe corners they could find.

The laser drill flashed to life, a warm orange stream of light violently burning through the rock-face in its path—a significant contrast to its otherwise muted, sizzling hum. Shepard and Tali kept their distance as the drill slowly lurched forward, digging its way beyond the obsidian stone and into the ruins buried therein. Dr. T'Soni didn't have a perfect vantage point as the drill burned through well below her feet, but she could see enough of the flash and smoke to know a significant piece of history was being desecrated.

Particulate smoke filled the chamber by the time the quarian disengaged the drill, its orange light fading and the cavern returning to its previously dim, sickly green color. The trio approached the newly bored tunnel, staring futilely through the opaque cloud of dust that filled its interior. Only the sound of lightly shuffling feet against debris and a few sporadic coughs managed to echo back into the main chamber before the asari stumbled forward through the dust and rubble, visibly livid.

"What is _wrong_ with you people?!" she demanded impatiently, dusting herself off and keeping her distance. "Do you have _any_ idea what you just did?!" Even with the translator's inadequate understanding of inflection her words were carried on a venomous voice.

"Rescued you?" Shepard bluffed, the krogan's suggestions idly humming in the back of his mind.

The asari took a single step forward, maintaining yet a significant distance from her would-be rescuers with an incredulous and disgusted sneer. "_Who are you?_"

The cavern shook violently, several of its ancient stalactites crashing down around the group. Desecration of history aside, it became clear there was a much more immediately pragmatic reason why the excavators had been far more calculated than the commander. What was left of the prothean structure began to collapse in on itself and, despite her mistrust, the asari fled quickly toward the trio the ruin came crashing down. Looking back, she could recall her instruction during her tenure at the university. This was precisely the thing that she had been trained to avoid, though her instructors never covered the possibility of being raided by multiple paramilitary forces with a complete disregard to the scientific process.

The commander dragged her by the arm toward the exit. Asari translators were no more accurate than their human counterparts, and they had particular trouble dealing with rapid, slurred speech. Even so, she understood the point when she heard him shout "Arguments later, running now!"

Shepard led the way, team in tow, as the cavern shook itself apart. He figured the indicatively hot orange light slowly illuminating the tunnel was enough to assume they'd inadvertently hit a magma-flow with the drill. He didn't know much about the dynamics of exoplanetary tectonics, but he knew molten hot rock was a fine reason to run as quickly as humanly possible. Even the asari seemed to agree, her self preservation instinct overriding her indignation.

Rounding the corner back into the main tunnel, the group was in a full-on sprint by the time they reached the main entrance, barreling through and leaving barely enough time for the automated doors to slide open. Now back into the open of the world's surface, Shepard nearly collapsed into a nearby railing from exhaustion as the rest put more distance between themselves and the collapsing dig site. He pulled himself together as best he could to rejoin them once he'd caught his breath, but his heart was still pounding up to his ears by the time they'd all regrouped.

A quick survey of the scene revealed they weren't alone. An older model shuttle sat between the team and the Mako, its doors open to reveal a particular tall and ornately armored krogan wielding an inordinately large shotgun in one hand. Scattered across the premises were more of the smaller humanoid geth armed with rifles, but they weren't immediately hostile and they seemed to be following the krogan's lead. Garrus and Tali had already drawn their own weapons by the time Shepard had finished counting heads, meanwhile Liara seemed to be pining for a weapon of her own.

"What did I tell you?" the krogan warlord shouted back toward the geth at his heels. "Wait long enough and someone will do it for you." He took several steps forward, a disconcerting smile across his face. "I've got to admit, even _I_ wasn't going to tear the whole place down for one mark."

"That's close enough!" Shepard shouted, drawing his sidearm and training it on the disturbingly civil warlord. He could his fellows tense up at the gesture.

"Relax, human," the warlord smiled. "I'm here to bring her home, _alive_," he motion casually toward the doctor. "I'm not here to kill anyone."

Garrus turned his head and whispered toward Liara. "You know him?"

"Tell that to my colleagues!" Liara shouted back to the warlord. Evidently she did not know him.

"My apologies," the krogan conceded. "My friends here get a little skittish around us organics. They don't like _you_ at all, I suspect," he gave Tali a harsh glare before turning his gaze to Garrus. "And I don't like turians. But humans? I have no quarrel with humans." He beckoned them forward with an open hand, weapon firmly gripped in the other. "Hand her over and we can all leave this place."

Liara did not see fit to step forward, and the commander took a step between the two to reinforce the point. "I am a Council spectre and you are interfering with an official investigation," he stumbled to put the words together, unsure of how to refer to himself and his business. It sounded feint even to him, and the krogan certainly wasn't buying it. "Walk away," he added more succinctly.

The krogan shook his head and sighed. "_Spectre_, huh?" he raised his weapon from his side toward the commander. "Have it your way."

All Alliance Navy issued hardsuits had some form of kinetic barrier generator, most of which were designed to deflect ambient particles and small debris while operating in a vacuum. Shepard's own suit wasn't exactly top-of-the-line, issued at the start of the _Normandy_'s first tour and designed mostly for emergencies and routine maintenance on the hull. He contemplated filing a requisition order as the krogan fired, shattering his barriers instantaneously and throwing him back several meters. To be fair, the commander managed to get off the first shot, but krogan were notoriously resilient creatures, and he was far less accurate with his pistol in the time between being thrown into the air and returning to the surface in considerably worse shape.

Garrus and Tali bolted for cover, the asari following their lead, firing blindly and ineffectually toward the warlord and his geth. Shepard himself scrambled to his feet, stumbling feebly toward the cover opposite of his cohorts. He struggled to steady his weapon, but the blast had taken the air from his lungs and he'd yet been able to fill them once more. His instinct to flee was only outweighed by his distaste for being shot once more. As his comrades fired, he checked himself over to find most of the damage had been mitigated by his shields and his suit. Still, judging by the considerable dent in his chest piece, at the very least he'd have a broken rib and a nasty bruise to deal with in the morning.

As the commander attempted to shout orders to his compatriots across the field, the deafening roar of starship engines overtook his voice. Looking up, the combatants saw the _Normandy_, cargo bay doors wide open with a line of marines armed to the teeth and one particularly excited krogan who saw fit to leap out and hit the dirt with a thunderous stomp. The warlord and his geth failed to adjust before the marines, Williams and Kaidan at the fore, opened fire from above. Wrex took the opportunity to charge his counterpart, letting loose several blasts from his weapon before ramming his own plated head into the other's with a victoriously loud crack.

After firing an excessive number of shots into the warlord's torso, who was clearly gone by the second blast, Wrex turned back to the geth and casually fired between them as the ship descended and the marines disembarked and began mopping up the stragglers. Shepard pulled himself up on his feet, regrouping with the ground team as they assisted eliminating the remaining geth forces. The commander certainly acted at attention, but Williams, Kaidan, Wrex and the rest of the party crashers made quick work of the opposition.

Chief Williams approached the commander as the rest of the crew wrapped up. "Did you just get shot?" she asked nonplussed.

"That I did," Shepard coughed, holstering his pistol. He watched as Tali systematically examined each of the fallen geth before Wrex could destroy them even more completely. "Nice timing. How'd you know?"

Williams kept her weapon in hand as she and the commander escorted the asari aboard. "We picked up a seismic disturbance from orbit and saw the tinmen coming out of the woodwork," she kept her answer simple with the stranger in their midst.

"So what you're saying is, had I not caused that disturbance," he gave a quick glance to the judgmental blue doctor, "we'd all be dead."

"You did _what?_" the chief seemed less impressed than the commander had expected. "_Why_?"

"Long story," the commander brushed the question aside as the Mako rolled up the loading ramp and back into the bay, driven even less competently by one of the resident marines. "Debrief in thirty. We've got some things to discuss."


	7. Chapter 6

Feros

"I am _not_ my mother!" Liara shouted.

"Wow, this conversation is really going places," the commander interrupted. "Let's all just calm down," he held his hands up between the belligerents.

The senior staff and ground team had gathered in the briefing room, most without actually being asked. Shepard got the feeling they didn't trust him to handle the matter of their new guest himself. Dr. T'Soni was, of course, at the center of the conversation. Williams and Garrus had made several insinuations which the good doctor did not appreciate. Wrex simply suggested violence before resigning himself to quiet observation. Thus far, nothing had been accomplished aside from shouting.

"Dr. T'Soni," Shepard addressed their most recent guest once he'd settled things down. "Your mother is involved with some very disreputable people."

"_I know_," Liara interrupted. "She has been for a long time."

"Okay," Shepard continued as disarmingly as he could. "If there's _anything_ you know about her or her associates—any clue as to their whereabouts, we could use the help."

Liara sighed, casually resting her face in her own palm. "This is about Saren Arterius, yes?" Shepard nodded in response. "I don't know where he is, nor do I care to."

"What's _your_ problem with him?" Garrus interjected. It seemed everyone had a score to settle with the man. If they ever found him, they'd likely spend more time fighting one another over who gets to take the shot.

"He's a spectre," Liara answered curtly. "That's enough reason not to trust him, and it's certainly _not_ the sort of person with whom a matriarch should be gallivanting around the galaxy."

It was becoming more and more clear that being a spectre wasn't such an honor outside of the Presidium's halls. "Is there anything specific about this one or is it just a problem with spectres in general?" Shepard asked.

"They act with universal jurisdiction and no oversight," Liara added. "They can kill someone and walk away from it. I don't know about _all_ spectres, but I know the stories about Saren."

"Why would Benezia work with him, then?" Kaidan chimed in. "Money? Politics?"

"Matriarchs are apolitical and they don't amass fortunes," Liara explained. It seemed like an overly idealistic generalization. Still, they gave her the benefit of the doubt. "I don't know what would compel her to join a man like that, especially in light of your Eden Prime."

"The why doesn't matter," Shepard reigned in the conversation. "What matters is if we can find one, we can find the other. Do you at least have an idea of where she's been?"

Liara let out a tired sigh and contemplated the question briefly before answering. "A few weeks ago I received a message," she said. "She wanted me to meet her on Feros. She said it would be safer with her than out here."

"What did you say?" Kaidan asked.

"I didn't say anything," Liara answered. "I deleted the message and continued my work."

"Sir, there have been reports of geth in that system after Eden Prime," Williams turned to the commander. "They stopped checking in a couple of days ago."

"It's better than nothing," Shepard nodded. "I'll update the Council. Dismissed."

His crew did not stand immediately, each giving suspicious glances toward the asari before slowly filing out. Only with further encouragement did they finally return to their stations. Liara remained, giving the commander a sideways look of confusion. "What do you mean you'll update the Council?"

Shepard left his seat and approached the communications array, the room's lights dimming as tapped away at its interface and patched into the comm. network. "I wasn't bluffing back there," he said. "I'm a spectre."

"You're _human_," she added with a tone of disbelief.

"If either of those are a problem, we can drop you off back on Therum." It was impossible to tell whether he was being sincere or spiteful. Therum was hardly hospitable, but a mission to hunt down a rogue spectre was likely to be worse. It might have been an act of compassion to leave her behind with what was coming, but there seemed to be little choice in the matter.

"If you're trying to find Benezia, I'm coming with you," Liara stood assertively.

Shepard nodded, seeming more understanding than the rest. Even so, his patience was wearing thin. "There's a lab in the infirmary's annex. Dr. Chakwas can show you around, maybe help you collate what's left of your research or what-have-you." His tone got particularly less understanding as he continued. "I want you to restrict your movements to Deck 2. No offense, doctor, but I can't have you near any critical systems given the circumstances."

Liara clenched her fists, but didn't press the issue. "Understood," she said, the translator's tone failing to do her demeanor justice. She began to depart, but found herself standing at the edge of the door, the commander quietly waiting for her to leave. She turned back tentatively. "Did my mother send those things for me?"

Shepard shrugged, leaning against the room's curved metal hull as the communications display blinked idly, waiting for input. "Too soon to judge." He was at least trying to be fair. "But it's starting to look that way."

She stared blankly for a moment, processing the answer to no avail, before quietly departing toward Deck 2. Shepard stood in silence for a few moments, almost waiting for someone to burst through the door with more demands. When it became clear he had a moment of privacy, he exhaled deeply and leaned heavily against the bulkhead. Clutching his chest lightly, he gave himself a brief respite from maintaining the image of command. Getting shot simply wasn't something a person got used to, even if he escaped with an intact ribcage and a few mere bruises. Chakwas' scolding didn't help the matter, either. He reestablished his façade and tapped at the communication array's interface once more.

###

"I don't trust her," Williams remarked atop the Mako.

"Neither do I," Garrus agreed at her side.

The commander had made it clear the mishap with the Mako's cannon was not to happen again, so Garrus had spent his time since returning to _Normandy_ attempting to recalibrate the turret's targeting systems. Given the scarcity of time, he'd even gone so far as asking for help—Tali and Williams assisting the repair and refit. Wrex sat lazily atop a nearby crate, content to join the conversation but reluctant to offer anything more than token moral support much to the chagrin of the turian.

"She seemed sincere to me," Tali said from inside the tank, voice echoing through the turret's hatch. She had been darting back and forth between her more in-depth reading of the tank's manual and its damaged systems, paying little attention to the broader conversation.

Garrus reached a talon down into the hatch. "Just give me the solder, Tali."

"_Tali'Zorah_," she insisted, withholding the device.

"_Garrus Vakarian_, nice to meet you," he flexed his claws. "Solder." He retrieved the device with no further protest and returned to his work, turning back to the chief. "Your ship needs a brig."

Williams nodded tentatively. "Turian frigates have brigs?" she feigned a smirk.

"Turian _apartments_ have brigs," Garrus joked. "You know, just in case the neighbors play their music too loudly."

She let out the most sincere laugh she'd given since Eden Prime, albeit short and muted. She nodded toward Wrex, who was idly checking over his krogan-sized shotgun. "What about krogan ships?"

Wrex looked up to the chief atop the tank with an idle grunt, somewhat peeved at the interruption. "Krogan don't make ships. We take them." He resumed disassembling his weapon with a surprising degree of delicacy. "Mostly from turians, so yes."

Williams unwitting gave yet another laugh. She wouldn't be inviting them to dinner any time soon, but at least they had a sense of humor. "A krogan comedian," she remarked. "Wish the other two were as humorous as you."

Wrex scoffed. "Mercenaries, on Saren's payroll at that." He began snapping his weapon back together once more, a fresh heat-sink shining between rusted and beaten parts. "Those krogan were traitors. They sold themselves out to whoever was willing to pay. No better than prostitutes." He was not fond of his fellow krogan to say the least, though it was likely just his years which informed his cynicism.

Tali curiously poked her head out the tank's side door. "How is that different from what you do?" She froze solid moments after realizing what she'd implied, a look of absolute panic hidden behind her mask.

Whatever jubilation in Williams' mood remained quickly evaporated as she watched the krogan slowly turn his glare toward the engineer. "Uh oh," she braced herself for whatever was about to go down. Garrus had a remarkably similar reaction, reaching for a nearby handhold atop the hull of the tank.

Wrex snorted loudly and spit down onto the deck plating, leaning forward with his shotgun across his lap. "I'm prettier," he grinned, baring his numerous broken teeth. He leaned back once more with a chuckle, amused by the quarian's frightened and motionless stare.

"I'll be in the mess," Williams said politely as she climbed down the tank and quickly vacated the cargo bay before any gunfire could vent it.

"I'll go with you!" Tali shouted, dropping the pretense and practically sprinting toward the elevator.

Now left to fix the tank alone, Garrus gave the krogan a frustrated look. "Thanks," he sneered sarcastically. "I don't suppose _you'll_ help me with this?" he pointed toward the turret with a single claw.

Wrex smiled, setting his weapon aside and crossing his arms casually. "Nope."

The elevator's doors quietly slid shut, escorting Tali and the chief slowly up to Deck 2. The quarian stood silently and stared at nothing in particular, simply thankful that the krogan really did have a sense of humor, if intimidating. Williams found it fairly funny in retrospect, but she'd still clutched the crucifix hanging from her neck for a moment there. An angry krogan on a ship spelled hull breach, which meant casualties in the dozens. Getting spaced was a bad, slow way to go.

"So," Tali started, still staring intently at the warning labels lining the elevator's interior. "How long have you served in the Alliance?"

Williams wasn't one for small-talk, least of all the sort which served only to fill an otherwise enjoyable silence. "_That's_ what you're going with?" she smirked. The quarian gave no response. "For someone who introduced herself at gunpoint, you sure play possum like a pro."

"I said I was sorry for that," Tali rebuked as the elevator slid to a halt and admitted the pair into the mess. "And do I want to know what _possum_ is?"

Williams shrugged. "Earth thing. Never seen one, myself." Tali followed her idly through the mess as she pulled up a seat next to Navigator Pressly, enjoying his hastily prepared MRE alongside Lieutenant Alenko. "And the answer is seven years," she confided.

Tali stood apprehensively at the edge of the table, giving the navigator a glare that she knew he couldn't see. Pressly, perhaps having better eyesight than one might expect, returned the look in kind. Much to her surprise and after a few brief moments of tension, the navigator casually pushed out the chair across from him with his foot, making a shallow nod for her to sit. Williams and Alenko seemed oblivious to the exchange, cracking knuckles and complaining loudly about the onboard rations respectively. Tali sat.

###

Shepard left the briefing room in a considerably worse mood. In the Alliance, a mission update strictly served to update the brass on the status of the mission. The Council had other ideas, using the opportunity to scold the commander's brashness which resulted in the destruction of the prothean ruin. They had apparently only just heard of Wrex's involvement in the mission, as the commander also heard an earful about the krogan's part in the day's events. As was to be expected, they had no further insight or leads, suggesting the commander follow up on the information they had just admonished him for acquiring. Perhaps it was just his biases coloring his perception of the conversation, but they seemed even less apt to trust him now than they had been _before_ giving him the authority.

Releasing his light grip upon his chest, Shepard strode through the CIC dutifully toward the cockpit, a pale blue haze illuminating its interior through the viewports. "Status," he turned to the pilot.

"Course to the Theseus system laid in, commander," Joker said, idly thumbing through readouts on the ship's cornucopia of navigation data. "It's a ways out from the relay system, might take a few hours once we make the jump."

"Just get us there soon," Shepard acknowledged. "We've wasted enough time out here already."

"Please, that bloated drive-core in the back isn't for show," Joker boasted. "I just flew down to Planet Hell and got everyone out in one piece. I'll get us there."

Shepard shook his head contemptuously. "I'll be hearing about that one for a while, huh?"

"I'll stop when you buy me a trophy," Joker said. "I might settle for a medal."

Shepard departed back into the CIC. "I'll get you a certificate when this is all over," he shouted back as he left the pilot to his duties. The celebrations honoring Joker's adequacy would have to wait; there were still plenty of things to do before hitting boots on Feros. Most importantly was the matter of the commander's EVA suit, whose shield generator was completely fried. They were on a ship full of marines, so there _were_ spares to be found. The only question was whether any of those marines would take the order in stride to give up their only lifeline because their commanding officer walked into buckshot.

Descending through the stairwell, he could hear a particularly animated conversation echoing through Deck 2. Thankfully, it seemed to be civil. Tali, Kaidan, Williams and Pressly were all sharing a downright pleasant discussion regarding cultures and perspectives, none of which were of any interest to the commander at the moment. Still, it was a nice change of pace not having any fires to put out. He enjoyed his moment's reprieve as he dug through a marine's personal locker, pillaging replacement parts for his shield generator now having decided to take first and ask later. The moment passed abruptly as Liara quietly entered the mess from the lab, still clearly bitter about the aforementioned circumstances. Several suspicious glances followed her across the deck as she wordlessly retrieved an MRE package and brought it back toward the infirmary.

"Settling in?" the commander asked as she passed him by, closing the locker and halting her gait briefly.

"On _this_ deck, yes," Liara answered. "Your ship's physician has been very welcoming. She's had a lot to say about _you_."

"Great things, I'm sure," Shepard said facetiously, though he wasn't sure if the intent made its way through the translators.

"She said you used a prothean beacon," the archaeologist continued. "And then one of your people _shot it_."

Shepard held a hand up defensively. "Hey, now, the last part wasn't my idea."

"Do you people have some kind of grudge?" she said unabated.

"Absolutely, and more than one," Shepard joked insincerely, "but none against history." He paused momentarily, attempting to actually collate all of his crew's collective grudges. "Well, maybe Wrex. I'm not sure."

The asari's words grew less hostile than curious, though still with a sizeable amount of venom. "Did you see anything before you destroyed it?"

"Genocidal synthetics, prophetic end-times, death and destruction," Shepard shrugged. "You know, the usual." He pointed toward her MRE, other hand clutching the much-needed parts. "Enjoy your meal," he said. She was keen to take her meals alone in the lab and he wasn't about to talk about his nightmares with someone he'd just met. He declined any further answers, instead turning back to the less begrudged group chatting at the nearby table.

They each passed nods at the commander's approach, Kaidan taking the chance to try and fill him in. "Sir, do you know who her dad is?" he asked as he pointed toward Tali, who seemed less willing to divulge that information to the commander.

"Do I need to know?" Shepard turned to the quarian.

"You do not," she answered.

"Fair enough," Shepard said. "Anybody seen Jenkins? I had to steal his shield modulator," he explained as he held the parts up with a clenched fist.

The majority of the table's occupants shrugged. Pressly pointed toward the infirmary with a bowl in hand. "He rolled an ankle disembarking on that last run. Pretty sure he's still in there if you need him." They were the first relaxed words the navigator had spoken to the man since their chat the previous day.

Shepard glanced back toward the infirmary, housing at least two very specific grudges against him if not a copious amount of disdain in general. "He'll figure it out," Shepard shrugged, dropping the much-needed components onto the table and taking a seat at its end.

"Sir," Williams added with a wry smile, "he tried to one-up Wrex and jumped out of the ship."

"Then he is beyond my help at this point," the commander said, deadpan. "So, what's the word? How are we doing?" His intent had been to gauge crew morale and mission readiness. Judging by the silence and complete lack of eye contact, he wouldn't be getting the answer.

Kaidan saw fit to break the awkward quiet once it had well overstayed its welcome. "_Admiral_ Rayya," Kaidan said, pointing once more toward Tali.

"The _Rayya_ a ship," Tali interrupted, resuming their prior frustrating conversation. "For the last time, it is not my surname."

"Your father is an admiral?" Shepard asked. "I'm not starting some interstellar incident here, am I?"

"That would make, what, three this month?" Pressly added with a slight chuckle.

"You are not," Tali answered Shepard, ignoring Pressly's timely wisecracking.

"Well, if the Migrant Fleet shows up, we know we're in trouble," Shepard said as he stood once more, taking the components and starting back toward the elevator while Tali watched idly as he left.

"So _'nar Rayya'_ is your ship?" Williams continued.

Tali shook her head. "Not _my_ ship, just my birth-ship. Quarians have two ship-names after their pilgrimage—their birth-ship and the vessel they serve aboard at any given time."

Williams rubbed two fingers against her temples. "This is confusing the hell out of me," she groaned.

Kaidan laughed, standing with a hand on the chief's shoulder. "Extraterrestrial nomenclature will do that." The lieutenant bid the others farewell with a quick wave and walked briskly to catch up with the commander, waiting dutifully for the elevator to ascend from Deck 3.

The shield modulator in one hand and his own MRE in the other, Shepard gave a slight look of surprise at being followed. "Boring conversation?"

"Nah, she's a decent kid," Kaidan answered noncommittally as the elevator's doors slid open. Stepping with the commander inside, he tried to formulate his thoughts without coming off as insubordinate. "About what you asked before," he started. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

The fact that he asked for permission was less of a shock to Shepard than the fact that he had been the first and only person to ask for permission since taking command of _Normandy_. He wasn't sure whether that was a sign of increased trust or a sign of growing fear, nor was he sure which was preferable. "Speak your mind," he granted.

"Look, we're all behind you on this. Maybe not all for the right reasons, but still," he started, seemingly biding his time to find the right words even as he spoke them. "But they're getting frustrated out there. We all know the stonewalling the Council has been giving us and we're still chasing our tails because of it. It's starting to show."

"Tell me about it," Shepard sneered.

"It doesn't add up, sir," Kaidan continued. "Why would they send us out here just to hold out on us? The crew isn't happy being on a wild goose chase."

"They seemed in good enough spirits," Shepard said as the elevator began slowly descending back down into the bay.

"That's just because they've all got a mutual distrust now," the lieutenant noted. "T'Soni seems sincere enough but, even if she's telling the truth, she still has a conflict of interest here."

"Judging by the mercenaries with guns and the exchanges of bullets, I don't think she's likely to turn around now—even if it _is_ her mother."

"But what if Benezia leaves us no choice?" Kaidan asked thoughtfully, neglecting to expand upon the question before receiving an answer.

"I don't plan on killing anyone, Kaidan," Shepard defended himself. He was beginning to take offense at the implication, though he maintained a casual posture.

The elevator doors opened, admitting them back into the cargo bay to continue much-needed maintenance. Kaidan had clearly hit a nerve, so he was content to save his concerns for another time. "It's when the plan breaks down that worries me," he muttered.

###

The world of Feros, orbiting second around an inconspicuous star called Theseus, wouldn't seem like much from a distance. It was a terrestrial planet near twice the mass of Earth with a temperate-to-cold surface shrouded by perpetually churning clouds of dust. It had little drinkable water and even less land open for farming. To a surveyor looking for prospective colonization sites, Feros was low on their list. The planet lingered in obscurity for many years following its discovery from a distance, going unexplored and uncharted up until the point that someone finally decided to take a closer look.

The truth was that Feros had been an excellent prospect for colonization. It had been such a great prospect that the enigmatic Prothean Empire had covered nearly two thirds of the world's surface in mega-cities thousands of years prior, the common theory being those mega-cities were themselves the cause of the world's eventual decline. Unlike other relics of the long-vanished protheans, Feros had remained untouched and remarkably well-preserved at the time of its rediscovery. Its towering structures, situated high above the now inaccessibly smog-ridden surface, still stood tall and relatively stable—not to mention completely unstudied up until recent years.

While the protheans' disappearance was itself a great cosmic mystery, Feros presented its own enigma. While the protheans vanished over fifty thousand years ago, evidence suggested Feros had been completely abandoned long before, sparing it from whatever cataclysm befell the ancients. Whether it was the world's decaying environment or some other force was uncertain, but it was this mystery that drove Dr. T'Soni's decision to accompany the team into the colony whether they liked it or not. She was expecting resistance, of course, but she'd spent a majority of her own life trying to solve the mysteries of the Prothean Empire and she wasn't about to let another ruin get obliterated in the spectre's path.

As she entered, Shepard was standing at the edge of the bay as the rest of his team equipped themselves with their respective armors and weapons. He hadn't taken notice of her loitering outside of Deck 2 and it was too much to hope he _had_ noticed but decided to lax the restriction. She stood away, watching quietly as they prepared. Dr. Chakwas had encouraged her decision, seemingly disagreeing with the commander's own policy on guests, but she had little in the way of substantive advice on how to approach the subject.

"_The geth have got some kind of fleet running patrols over the easternmost continent, right above the Zhu's Hope outpost,_" the pilot's voiced beckoned through the comm. "_They're practically laying siege._"

"Orbital weapons?" Shepard called back up, handing Garrus a shiny new sniper rifle they'd acquired before departing the Citadel.

"_Not by the looks of it. They don't seem interested in laying waste, just taking that colony,_" Joker answered.

Shepard nodded as the team gathered at the cargo bay doors. "Keep us under their radar as long as you can, just in case."

"_Will do, commander. We'll run the stealth drive until we reach port._" The pilot's comm. audibly clicked off over the speakers and the ship began its descent.

Shepard approached his team, consisting of Tali, Garrus, Wrex, Williams and Alenko. Judging by what they'd seen of the world so far, they were still beyond outnumbered. "We go in quiet," he ordered. "We hit boots on the ground and establish contact with the colonists. The geth haven't stopped jamming comms, so we stick together and we don't shoot _anything_ until we know what it is."

"And if it has a flashlight for a face?" Williams asked.

"We engage only if we must, and quietly if we can."

The ship buckled as the artificial gravity came into conflict with Feros' natural gravity, its lights flickering a familiar and discordant pattern in sync with the sound of the sputtering drive. The crew visibly shook with the ship with the exception of Tali, who managed to keep her footing without a second thought. Liara pushed her trepidation to the back of her mind, stepping forward and making a go of it.

"I'm coming with you," she said on her approach.

Shepard fixed her with a glare, along with most of his team. "I thought I told you to stay put," he growled.

"If you're looking for Benezia, I'm—" she started before quickly being cut off.

"I _thought_ I told you to stay put," Shepard repeated angrily, louder this time.

"You need me down there!" Liara argued. "That is a former prothean world. Benezia and her pet spectre were looking for something on a prothean world and **I** am your only prothean expert!"

"It's a warzone, doctor," Williams said. "Even if we were willing to give you a gun, could you use it?"

"Asari are natural biotics." Liara insisted. "I could establish barriers, block access points and help your colonists."

Shepard gave Kaidan a questioning glance. The lieutenant nodded cautiously. "She's telling the truth there, commander," he said. "An asari toddler could give me a run for my money on my best days, and without the nosebleeds."

Shepard grimaced, the pain in his chest acting up again. He made a conscious effort to keep his hands at his sides when he was around the rest of the crew. "You think you can keep it together down there?" he asked.

"They killed my friends," Liara neglected to give a hard answer. "I have as much right to fight them as you do."

It was a bad call, but he'd made enough of those in the last few weeks to consider it. "Stay with Lieutenant Alenko and do _exactly_ what he says," he directed her, the lieutenant nodding slightly as she took a place at his side. "And if you can't help then keep your head down and stay the hell out of the way."

At this point, the crew had learned better than to question the commander on matters regarding team selection, especially considering half of them had been in that position only days prior themselves. Williams was perhaps the last holdout in that camp but she merely shook her head and quietly took her rifle, thankful she hadn't been assigned to babysitting duty. The remainder of the team passed a few wordless, sideways glances.

The ship shook violently, fighting against the air currents surging through the ancient towers _Normandy_ now lurked between. Slowly hovering into an enclosed port built out from one of the desiccated ruins, the vessel's hull emitted a slight hiss as the dock's automated magnetic anchors locked it in-place. No port or customs authorities responded to their hails as they made their approach, no doubt due to the situation on the ground, and everything but hard-line comm. channels went silent shortly after they dropped into atmosphere. Whatever the geth had been doing to jam up the airwaves on Therum clearly hadn't fallen out of fashion. Radio communication was going to be impossible once they set foot outside, so the majority of the marines would stay aboard to keep the ship secure.

As the commander and the rest of the ground team awaited at the edge of the bay doors, the ship's VI echoed through the intercom. "_Equalizing interior pressure with exterior atmosphere_," it said in its mechanically and insincerely cheerful voice. Feros' atmosphere was breathable by theoretical standards, but those standards didn't provide much comfort as the world's atmosphere was pumped into the bay. For a brief time, each breath the commander took burned through his lungs. It didn't take long to readjust, but the feeling never quite went away.

_"Logged,_" the VI said as the bay doors slid open. "_The commanding officer is ashore. XO Pressly has the deck._"

Stepping off the loading ramp and into the dock, Feros was—at the very least—a nicer world than Therum, but it was still a world that had spiraled down the habitability scale long ago. Shepard cautiously led the crew into the port, flanked by Kaidan and Williams with the non-human crew following closely behind. Liara had lost track of whatever banter had been taking place after disembarking, marveling at the remarkably well-preserved architecture enclosing the otherwise contemporarily-built port. She'd always wanted to study on Feros, but exclusive colonization rights had been staked by the ExoGeni Corporation and they had kept all expeditions in-house. On any other world, Dr. T'Soni would be livid that someone had bored a corporate colony into the heart of such a ruin, but even she had to admit there was more than enough left over. The towers looked homogenous in their designs, possibly pre-fabricated and assembled on-site. Contemporary colonies used the same kinds of tricks, though their pre-fab structures were restricted to modest hovels and huts—no skyscrapers or skyways.

"Doctor?" the commander beckoned, now well ahead of her, waving his hand for her to rejoin the group. "You wanted to come along, right?"

Her state of awe broken, Liara could hear the sounds of gunfire echoing throughout the decrepit city. "Right," she jogged briskly to rejoin the group. "What exactly are we hoping to find here?"

Shepard pushed forward with the rest following loosely, covering a wider distance and checking the area before proceeding. "Zhu's Hope is the only functioning port on this planet," the commander answered. "If Saren or Benezia have been around, they came through here."

"So, what?" Liara persisted, following closer than the rest. "We just ask the colonists if they've seen any spectres or matriarchs recently?"

Shepard nodded with a facetious enthusiasm. "That _is_ how investigations tend to work, assuming there's anyone left alive to ask." He led the team from the port toward the colony proper as they made their way through a disconcertingly bottle-necked terminal. Waiting as his team secured the area, he turned a suspicious eye to the asari at his heels. "Didn't I tell you to stay with the lieutenant?"

"Contacts!" Williams' hushed shout from across the room interrupted the exchange.

"Down!" the commander responded in kind, dragging the doctor behind a fallen slab of ancient stone. The rest of the team took cover as well at various points around the terminal—all save for Wrex. The krogan remained in the open, shotgun in-hand, as a small group of patrolling humanoid geth passed toward the colony. "Wrex!" the commander growled. The krogan did not heed.

Despite Wrex's threatening posture, the geth seemed to pay him little mind. One stopped for a moment, its head turning toward the krogan as it chirped and buzzed. Wrex stood firm, readying his weapon with a snarl. The geth turned away nonchalantly, returning to its cohort without conflict as they pushed toward the battle in the distance. Wrex laughed boisterously, stomping in the departing geth's direction. "That's right!" he taunted. "Run, coward!"

Peeking out of cover, Shepard marched toward the krogan when the coast seemed to be clear. He delivered a forceful shove to the behemoth's shoulder to grab his attention, though hardly strong enough to do much more than nudge the sizeable mercanary's bulk. "What the **hell** are you doing?!" he scolded.

"Scaring them off," Wrex turned to the commander, moderately impressed by what was either his courage or his stupidity. "In case you hadn't noticed, there's not much point in trying to hide a krogan."

"I gave you an order," the commander hissed through his teeth.

"And I did you one better," Wrex returned in kind. "They're gone, and now we know they're afraid of _me._"

Tali stepped forward, placing a hand between the two. "You didn't scare them," she said, earning a glare from the krogan. She continued, albeit with a more cautious choice of words. "They don't feel fear. The geth are a task-oriented, networked intelligence. They wouldn't care about a krogan unless it got in their way."

"And what did these colonists do to get in their way?" Kaidan asked. There was no answer to be found among the team.

"Why does it seem—everywhere we go—we're always playing catch-up?" Williams snipped.

"Just get moving," Shepard barked as he slowly set toward the geth's path. "And if your fat ass gets me killed," he pointed to Wrex, "I am going to haunt the unholy shit out of you."

They pushed forward without further incident until Zhu's Hope was finally within view. They witnessed a few passing teams of geth, though it was difficult to determine whether they had slipped by unnoticed or the geth truly didn't care about interlopers until they impeded their path. Though the commander certainly intended to impede their path, witnessing the dozens of geth platforms laying siege to the colony brought that plan into considerable question. The most surprising reality of the situation was that the geth hadn't already slaughtered the entire colony, especially if Tali's explanation of networked intelligence rang true. If she was to be believed, the geth got smarter and faster with the more platforms within range of one another. And yet, the colonists held steady against the onslaught.

Seeing them from a distance, the colonists could have easily been mistaken for a trained military force. Though their weapons were of a civilian make, their numbers small and their resources scarce, they were unexpectedly organized in their defense—seemingly rearranging their entire colony's worth of pre-fab structures into makeshift fortifications likely by using the heavily protected construction crane at the colony's heart. They wouldn't last forever, but it was valiant enough that they had lasted this long to begin with. With no radio or comms at their disposal, the only question was how to make contact without incurring friendly fire.

Perched atop a small, artificial plateau leading directly toward the colony, the bulk of the geth's numbers stood between Shepard and the colony. "Launch a flare," the commander turned to Kaidan.

Kaidan's pensiveness didn't stop him from readying the flaregun from his belt, but he still felt the need to speak. "Sir, I know the geth don't care about bystanders, but something tells me a flare is going to draw their interest."

"That's exactly what we're trying to do," Shepard said. "We're going to draw their fire, split their line and get inside that colony." He gave a contentious look to the krogan at his side. "Wrex will take point and make as much noise as he can. I want Garrus and Williams to cover his flanks and neutralize any of those things that so much as look at him." He punctuated each order with a brief glance to his respective crew, receiving an especially approving grin from the krogan in particular.

Williams shared the lieutenant's skepticism. "And what about the part where they start shooting back, sir?" she asked.

The commander met eyes with their newest blue acquaintance. "Batter up," he said, a comment that went far over her head. "Think you can hold a barrier against half of that line?"

Liara did not share the commander's confidence. "Not on my own," she shook her head. "On Therum, I bought myself no more than thirty seconds against just a few direct hits."

"You're just going to take the left flank, Kaidan takes the right," he said.

Kaidan's expression turned sour. "They're going to land more than a few hits on either of our barriers, and I couldn't hold one any longer than Dr. T'Soni."

Tali piped forward. "I can do that!" she said excitedly before realizing her cohorts expected further explanation. "We don't have comms, but we don't need a clear signal to transmit junk data," she said. "I can flood the airwaves with garbage transmissions, and they would have to sort through them in order to tell what's real and what isn't. It would limit the effectiveness of their networked processing power and—"

"Robot flashbang," Shepard interrupted. "Get it done."

Tali tried to continue. "They will adapt quickly so we need—"

"I get it," Shepard said. "Just get it done, Tali." She gave him a curt nod in lieu of even further explanation.

After what few moments of preparation they could spare, they each readied their weapons—whatever those weapons happened to be—and readied themselves for the charge. With a quick motion from the commander, Kaidan launched a bright red signal flare into the sky—hopefully giving the colonists pause at shooting them during their approach. Immediately after, the lieutenant took his place on the right flank of the group, giving a quick nod to the asari on the left as they simultaneously raised their hands to an off-blue shimmer in the surrounding air. The act was effortless for Dr. T'Soni, but Kaidan wouldn't complain as his skull trembled and the blood slowly started to roll down his face.

Tali's work was true to her word. The geth fired indiscriminately toward the krogan charging headfirst into their line, but they had considerable difficulty getting a bead on him. Williams and Garrus quickly dispatched any geth that wandered too closely to Wrex under the protective cover of their biotic comrades. Several shots rang against the shimmering barrier they'd erected, each one dimming it slightly and causing considerable stress to its benefactors. With what time they had, Wrex and company had punched a hole through the center of the geth's line, through which the team advanced as quickly as they could into the colony. Not five steps from the safety of the colony's fortifications, Dr. T'Soni's barrier trembled as the geth began to adapt and direct their fire. Exhausted, her concentration slipped and her barrier began to crack. Three steps from the colony and the geth had fully adapted. One platform fired precisely through Liara's crumbling barrier and striking Kaidan through the shoulder, shattering what little protection his EVA suit offered and finally finding its rest in the now blood-flecked, ancient stone.

Shepard caught the lieutenant by the collar as his own barrier dropped, firing inaccurately with his rifle in one hand. "Get inside, _now_!" he shouted, dragging Kaidan through the dust and behind the fortifications as his team followed, swiftly sealing what gaps in cover they could with whatever debris was on hand and joining the militant colonists in the defense. The team fell in line with what remained of the colony's defenders, Wrex taking point as he shouted either expletives absent from the translator's dictionary or simple, guttural roars. The colonists kept their distance from their new comrades in arms, but were clearly happy enough to see people without flashlights for heads that they would check their fire.

Kaidan's grimace served to highlight his status. "Shit!" he grunted as the commander applied pressure to the wound, writhing briefly at the act.

One of the colonists—a short-haired and lightly armored woman in contrast to the more traditionally dressed workers and administrators that surrounded her—shouted in the team's direction. "Did you get our signal?!" she asked, never taking her eyes from the sights of her weapon trained on the geth.

"Something like that!" Shepard answered while he jabbed clumsily at the lieutenant's wound with a medi-gel dispenser. "Just keep up the fire!"

Shots continued to ring through the air as the proverbial smoke of their entrance cleared. Williams was hardly as gleeful as Wrex about the ordeal, but she was still moderately satisfied with the number of targets in her view. "How's the LT?" she asked, receiving no answer.

Liara kept her head low near the lieutenant and his commander, shellshock and genuine shock battling over her expression. "I'm sorry!" she said. "Goddess, I'm sorry! I-I should have—"

"Not helping!" Shepard said as he fought the lieutenant's instinctive squirming against the lackluster first aid that was being received.

Just when the noise of gunshots and impacts had become nearly intolerable, a miraculous silence slowly enveloped the colony, quickly filled with Wrex's boisterous roars. "That's right, you motherless cowards!" the krogan taunted. "Run back to your holes!"

Williams gave the silence some time before commenting. "Did we just win?" she turned to her compatriots.

"Not likely," the short-haired colonist said. "They've left before. They always come back before too long." She approached the commander, now panting on his knees having hastily bandaged the lieutenant. "Arcelia Martinez," she introduced herself with an outstretched hand.

The commander lifted himself to his feet by her hand, motioning for the lieutenant to stay on the ground. "Commander Shepard, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

"A spectre?" she smiled incredulously, though still relieved at the assistance. "How long have we been out of touch, exactly?"

"Long enough," the commander said, understanding the suspicion at this point. "Take me to your leader." She complied with his request, quickly escorting the commander toward the heart of the colony.

Fai Dan was a hard man to read, and not just due to the slight, sickly green tint of his skin he shared with the rest of the colonists. He seemed relieved at the prospect of assistance, but suspicious of his assistance whenever they veered away from their guided path. He advised the team of their medical facilities and surviving personnel, but only reluctantly allowed Garrus and Liara to escort the lieutenant into the infirmary. He was quick to believe the commander's claim of authority but simultaneously quick to anger when that authority was raised. Shepard chalked it up to the nature of bureaucrats, though he knew little about the colonial administration variety. Arcelia was even less trustful than her boss once it was made clear the team planned to investigate rather than simply fight. She argued that investigation wasn't necessary to riddle a synthetic with holes, but soon came to realize that their new benefactors were hardly the rescue party their distress calls never managed to ask for. They were hiding something, though the commander hardly cared for whatever corporate secrets they were guarding.

"They will be back," Fai Dan said. "And soon."

Tali stopped Wrex before he could disagree. "You _can't_ scare them," she told her considerably larger compatriot. The quarian's words did little to damage the krogan's confidence.

Arcelia, having described herself as a glorified rent-a-cop for colonial security, had a far greater grasp on the strategic situation than her description would imply. "Every time something changes, they pull back and regroup. When we change tactics, improvise weapons, refortify the colony, they leave. And then they come back like everything new is old again."

"We changed the scenario, so they pull back until they figure us out?" Shepard muttered.

"The geth were designed as an adaptive workforce," Tali said. "They will reorganize their available resources to suit the task at hand."

"You have bought us some time, at least, to reorganize ourselves," Fai Dan said, as close to a 'thank you' as they would likely get out of the man.

"Enough time to track Benezia," Shepard corrected.

"We don't have time for a wild goose chase, _commander_," Arcelia scoffed. "Our home is three steps away from annihilation."

"Perhaps not," Fai Dan said, quelling Arcelia's look of scorn with his own. "The spectre and the matriarch you mentioned? They were here a few weeks ago."

"What did they want?" Shepard pushed.

Fai Dan shrugged. "We don't know. They went to the ExoGeni headquarters a few miles up the skyway and we never saw them again."

The commander nodded. "Then that's where we go."  
"No it is not," Arcelia insisted. "That building houses proprietary projects and data belonging to the ExoGeni cor—"

"Enough," Fai Dan interrupted. "It's irrelevant anyway. The geth's invasion ship has the building locked down. They've made their nest there. It will be crawling with them."

"Not when they're on the offensive," Kaidan's voice echoed from behind them as he slowly trudged toward the group, Garrus and an apologetic Liara at his side. Were it not for the gait and the arm in a sling, one would hardly know he'd been injured. His ringing headache from the biotic display, however, was on full display. "You said they reorganize every time something changes. When they come back, I'll bet they come back in more numbers. Their nest would be empty."

"And our home would be wiped out!" Arcelia said.

Kaidan shook his head. "Not if we stay with you," he said, eliciting looks of confusion from every colonist within earshot—and a few of his own crew.

Shepard nodded in agreement. "We use our time to get the Mako and our marines, send a small team to ExoGeni and everyone else stays behind on defense."

"If you time it right, you can slip past their advancing wave," Fai Dan agreed. "And if you take out their ship we might get our comms back, maybe contact corporate security for some real backup." Arcelia gave a disapproving grunt but offered no further comment, instead returning to the front line.

"Think you can still point a gun?" Shepard asked the lieutenant.

Kaidan grinned "I won't be putting on any more light shows for a while, but I can still cover a sector."

"Good," Shepard said, "because you'll be covering this one." He turned to the rest of his team, honing in on the quarian. "Will that trick of yours work twice?" he asked.

Tali's mask hid a look of negativity. "No," she said. "The geth will have deciphered the program I used to generate junk data. I would need to write a new one every few seconds to make it work consistently."

"Then you're in the Mako with Williams and I," he said, the quarian's fear of another joyride visible even through her mask.

"About damn time," Williams grinned.

Garrus was less satisfied with the decision. "I _fixed_ that tank!" he pleaded.

"Only because you _broke _that tank," Shepard said, indicating to the detective that grudges would be held. "You stay here with everyone else. Lieutenant Alenko is in charge."

Kaidan gave a forced salute with his uninjured arm. "We'll keep them safe, sir."


	8. Chapter 7

Chaff

The Mako rolled deftly through the skyway's empty streets. Save for the occasional pothole or pile of debris, the ride was significantly smoother than their first foray on Therum. Tali reclaimed her station on the tank's systems, praying silently to her ancestors that her first order wouldn't be to divert power to thrusters. Williams managed the now functional main cannon, but had little opportunity to test it. As Fai Dan had predicted, the Mako's team had managed to slip by the majority of the geth force unnoticed, passing around and beneath their advancing line through the complex, criss-crossing prothean architecture. With any luck, they wouldn't need the cannon at all.

Chief Williams peered through the tank's upper viewport at the geth jogging toward the colony on the overpass above. "That's a lot of flashlights," she said, looking down from the cannon's seat into the main cabin. "You sure we brought enough marines?"

"_Normandy_ is running on a skeleton crew now. We gave Zhu's Hope all the manpower we could spare," Shepard answered non-commitally. "The defense is up to Kaidan now."

Williams shrugged. "I just wish we could keep contact with them. I don't like being in the dark."

Shepard chuckled, keeping the Mako's speed comfortably slow and quiet. "What, worried about leaving all our new friends behind?"

"More worried about having to find another commander to hitch a ride from," she jibed. "Then again, the next one might have a nicer ship."

"The _Normandy_ is a fine ship," Tali defended it. Quarians kept a strange pride in their vessels, evidently regardless of whatever vessel it may be.

"The _Normandy_ is an over-designed bucket," Williams retorted.

"It's _my_ over-designed bucket, Chief." Shepard smirked behind the wheel. "Though if you ever find that new commander, let me know if he wants to trade."

Their banter continued as the Mako carved its way through the ancient architecture, a prevailing sense that they were always one moment away from when it would all come crashing down. As it turned out, prothean engineering had earned its reputation. The team fell into silence, however, as they approached the shadow of the mega-tower ExoGeni had co-opted. When they had been told about a corporate headquarters, they had been expecting something like the colony. They hadn't expected the company simply set up inside the biggest relic they could find. And across that mammoth tower's side clung the geth ship, shaped like an insect out of someone's fever dream with numerous mechanical claws and legs at its underbelly dug viciously into the exterior walls.

Catching his mouth agape, Shepard brought the Mako to a halt in the shadow of the geth cruiser. "Know how to deal with one of _those_, Tali?" he asked.

"If you want a door opened or a drive-core maintained, I've got it covered," Tali said. "This? No."

"I say we blow it up," Williams chimed in, hands lightly gracing the turret's firing controls.

"_Thanks_, chief," Shepard rolled his eyes, "but something tells me we'll need more than one cannon to do that." He sighed quietly before pressing the accelerator once more and slowly guiding the Mako toward the tower's entrance. "Which means we're headed inside."

"I thought we were staying _inside_ the tank?" Tali said nervously.

Williams grinned. "Just bring your boomstick and I'll watch your back."

The Mako rolled quietly through the tower's shadow and into its gaping maw. Kaidan was correct—there weren't any geth to see here, though recognizable geth technology was scattered across the vehicle bay as they parked. There were certainly some token patrols inside, but they had yet to show themselves. Shepard popped the Mako's side hatch and stepped out, followed by Williams and Tali, each checking their weapons and gear. Williams had gone so far as to clean up Tali's junker shotgun, along with the rest of the ship's armory, during the voyage from Therum.

"Thanks," Tali nodded to the chief, motioning with her weapon.

Williams used a hand to point the quarian's weapon back toward the ground. "Just don't point it at us, yeah?" she said.

Helmets, check. Munitions, check. Medical provisions, check. Armor, busted but functional. Comms, out. Shepard reiterated the same rituals he'd learned during basic—the same rituals he'd invoked before every operation. He went line by line, contingency by contingency, to appraise their situation. Williams did not share the same rhythm, having already advanced toward the tower's inner complex when she turned back and asked if the commander would be accompanying her. Shepard gave no answer, walking carefully to her line, rifle in hand, double-checking the checklists in his mind as best he could while still sating the chief's impatience.

The interior of the complex was pitch black, save for the occasional blinking emergency light, with clusters of geth tech being led through its halls by snaking cables and tubes. A haphazard mix of ancient ruin and contemporary paneling comprised the facility's structure, prothean corridors leading in some directions and recently blasted passages making new doors into old rooms. If Dr. T'Soni were there, she would have been livid at the thought of desecrating something so old and valuable to make a bureaucrat's commute easier. Thankfully, she was not there, so Shepard and company were free even to make some new doors should the need arise. The commander wasn't entirely against the idea of blasting a few holes in the exterior wall just to get some light, sickly green or not.

"Lights," Shepard ordered. The team illuminated themselves with multiple lights emitted from helmets, weapons and hardsuits. The dark complex took on a pale, mossy green beneath the illumination as their sights passed wall to wall and corridor to corridor.

Williams advanced slowly with Tali and Shepard in tow, clearly itching for more geth to shoot. She shined her light to the far end of their current corridor when something dark and low scurried back into the shadows. "Shit!" she cursed under her breath. Whatever had crawled off had found itself a damn good hiding place when the chief flashed her light toward its escape route. "Drone," she guessed back to her compatriots.

Tali disagreed. "A drone is used for aerial imaging. Whatever drones they have wouldn't be wasted patrolling a maze."

"Then what exactly _would_ they have left behind?" Williams hissed, unnerved at the lack of recognizable flashlight-heads.

Tali shrugged. "The geth have been in isolation for three centuries. They could have changed themselves significantly in that time."

"Fantastic," Shepard interrupted, taking the lead from Williams. "If doesn't have two eyes, just shoot and we can argue about it over the corpse."

They continued forward, hoping they were still moving toward the carrier as they twisted and turned through the complex's darkened halls. "You know not all species have two eyes, yes?" Tali criticized. "Batarians, hanar," she listed rhetorically.

"Do you have two eyes?" Shepard pushed forward, rifle at the ready.

"That's beside the point," Tali kept her weapon toward the ground, lest she earn further scolding from the chief.

"Well, if there's any batarians or hanar here, I'd guess they're up to no good anyway," Shepard joked.

The team entered a large, darkened foyer. Dim sunlight illuminated the room in strips through tall, thin windows burrowed through the original structure. Corporate imagery was plastered over top timeless engravings and glyphs, geth technology sprawling over and around it all. There was no movement here, nor any beyond the team's own footfalls on stone. They scanned the room with their lights, revealing only unmanned stations and terminals at its perimeter. The center of the foyer, however, was a different story.

There had been a reception area at the center of the room by the looks of the toppled desks and couches, but the geth had seen fit to redecorate. A strange, visually stressful mix of prothean relics, reception furniture and geth equipment were arranged ritualistically around a series of familiar pylons, bloodstained and empty. The entire area gave the uneasy feeling of reverence and worship. The geth were supposed to be utilitarian, but there was no clear utility to the way in which they paid homage to their would-be idols. The desks were turned against cover, the geth equipment seemed to be discarded and powerless, and the machines had shown no interest in prothean art or culture beyond the Beacon on Eden Prime. The question echoed silently between the team: what the hell were they doing here?

Shepard had seen these pylons before, but it was Williams who was most taken aback by them. "Dragon's teeth," she said as the others approached. "That's what the reports have been calling the ones they salvaged back on Eden Prime."

"These have been used," Shepard added, wiping crusted, dry blood from the side of a proverbial tooth. "What do they call these on the fleet?" Shepard asked the quarian.

"They don't," Tali answered quietly. "We've never seen _anything_ like these. New types of platforms from time to time, maybe a new kind of ship if we get too close to the Veil. Never this."

Shepard pressed forward. "We'll add it to the list of things we don't know," he said. Tali followed step-by-step as the commander left the altar behind. Williams did not. Realizing he was missing one, Shepard turned back and snapped his fingers toward the unresponsive chief. "Hey," he snapped, failing to garner her attention. "Hey!" he shouted, his memory drifting back to Eden Prime. His echoing voice stirred up dust and hisses from every direction. Motion crossed their collective peripheral vision between doorways and walls, fleeing quickly like a flock of crows. Shepard readied his weapon and took aim at nothing in particular as whatever they had awoken quieted down and fled back into stillness.

Williams hadn't raised her weapon, still fixated on the dragon's teeth. With a shaken look on her face she turned to her teammates. "We need to leave," she muttered.

"The hell has gotten into you?" Shepard approached, taking her by the shoulder. "I get it, spooky, but—"

Williams' shoulders drew tight at his hand, her body tense. "On Eden Prime, the people on those pikes got up and walked toward one of those ships," she said. "One of those ships is _right here_."

Shepard still wasn't seeing it. "So there's some walking corpses around," he took her rifle by the stock and pushed it back up in her arms. "Shoot them."

Williams was far less optimistic, but her options were limited—disobey orders and run away or walk headlong into whatever the hell happens to people the geth take more-or-less alive. They continued forward in a tight formation in a conscious effort to make as little noise as possible. The tower was split into narrow corridors, labs and stairwells, none offering considerable protection or strategic opportunity. More movement could be heard on occasion as they ascended toward the geth carrier, some of it scratchy scurrying and the rest mechanical stomping. The geth may not have been there in numbers, but they were still there along with whatever else was stalking the halls. As they ascended their third stairwell they could hear a distinct set of footfalls, quick and uncoordinated, moving against the rest—and toward the team.

Shepard and company prepared themselves as they clambered their way into the upper floors, the desperate feet stumbling through the corridor they now occupied. They drew closer and closer until they finally rounded a corner into view—a young woman in a lab coat, brandishing a pistol in one hand and a datapad in the other. At sight of them, the young woman stopped in her tracks and raised her weapon, spurring the team—Williams in particular—into a defensive posture.

"Put it down!" Williams shouted. The girl did not comply.

Simply happy to see another human in these halls, Shepard adopted a more diplomatic tone. "It's alright," he said, lowering his weapon but allowing Williams to continue to train her own for safety's sake. "We're not here to hurt you." He took a step forward and the woman took a step back, gun-hand shaking at the same pace as her knees. "I'm Commander Shepard," he continued. "We're here to help."

The woman spoke no words even as they slowly inched toward her. Upon closer inspection, the team realized that her terrified glare wasn't focused directly ahead. Her attention lingered slightly above their heads. The commander's heart sank at the realization, having seen more than enough vids to know that was a bad sign. He craned his neck back, the light of his helmet illuminating his view as his gaze turned upward. As the light crossed the ceiling, he found the bodies. Clinging to the ceiling, at least a half-dozen of them were splayed out by hands and legs, heads twisted back to return his gaze with expressionless, glowing blue eyes. Their bodies looked charred and desiccated, flesh dried out and blackened with blue markings like veins or circuitry. They all glared at him from above with lidless eyes and rotted snarls widening at the sight of him.

"Shit," the commander said, his voice muffled as he took aim.

Before anyone could fully react, the creatures let loose a hideous shriek, painful and almost mechanical in its sound. They dropped from their perches, charging the team directly like animals. The one closest to the commander had no need to charge, dropping right on top of him and knocking the weapon out of his hand. It wailed and clawed at his armor, slamming his head against the stone with such force that reminded him why he always brought his helmet, habitability be damned. The corpse was doing more damage to _itself_ than it was the commander and the snapping bones in its hands and arms were audible with every hit. It didn't care. It tore with its mangled hands at the commander's helmet, trying savagely to rip through its protection, as he fought against it with armored fists. It held steady, attempting to clamp its jaws on anything it could.

Shepard reached out desperately with one hand, finding a piece of stone debris in lieu of the firearm he'd been trying to locate. He bashed the stone as hard as he could into the creature's head, earning another shriek in response. He hit it again and again, its coagulated blood escaping limply from its skill, until it finally topped over. He didn't stop, pouncing on top of its crumpled form and continuing to strike until he could no longer tell which end was its head. With the creature still, he scrambled for his rifle and pulled himself back onto his feet. Tali blasted another one of the creatures through the chest as the commander stood. It showed no signs of pain, merely collapsing to the ground as it continued to writhe and snap its jaw. Shepard put multiple rounds into its broken form just to be sure.

They scanned the room to find Williams at the far side, gun in hand but failing to fire. She struck the creatures with the stock of her rifle but did little damage, trying to escape them rather than neutralize them. "Keep her safe!" Shepard said to Tali, pointing toward the girl in the labcoat, as he bolted back toward the chief.

Shepard tackled the creature nearest Chief Williams, pinning it down with his foot and unloading into it with his rifle. Williams stepped back, firing at the remaining creatures' feet, trying impotently to scare them off. Shepard gave no such warning shot, clipping them and tearing through their rapidly degrading bodies until they finally leapt back onto the ceiling and walls and rapidly clambered away. Keeping his weapon at the ready, Shepard led Williams back to the others, keeping a watchful eye toward the direction the creatures had fled. Williams' stoic façade had been thoroughly shaken, though she still maintained a straight face as best she could. The girl in the labcoat had long since stopped pointing a gun at them, but still shook and shuddered with each breath.

"If they didn't know we were here before, they do now," Shepard said, sizing up the condition of the girl. "Are you okay?"

She nodded her head, her eyes wet with fear. "Yes," she lied.

Shepard tried to speak as softly as he could, but he was no better at consoling the frightened as he was at diplomacy. "What's your name?"

"Lizbeth," she answered, failing to make eye contact.

"Do you work here?"

She hesitated to answer, trying to figure whether she does work here or used to work here. "Yes," she settled. "I am a laboratory technician. I came back to get a message out, but then _they_ showed up."

"Wait," Tali interrupted. "You were trying to send a distress _before _the geth arrived?"

Lizbeth's manner was surreptitious. Her eyes darted between halls and doorways. "Not a distress," she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I was trying to get a message to Colonial Affairs."

"You've been in here for that long?" Shepard asked. She didn't answer, and he realized his phrasing certainly didn't help. "What kind of message were you trying to send?"

She refused, clutching the pistol in her hand. "I need to contact Colonial Affairs." She was shell-shocked—that much was obvious.

It was at this point the commander wished the Council had given him a badge to flaunt, but he would make do. "I'm a Council spectre," he said. "Whoever Colonial Affairs would send is about a hundred rungs below me on the ladder." He may not have been a very good shoulder to cry on, but the commander knew plenty about the shell-shocked psyche. She didn't want to be touched. She didn't want to be stared down. She didn't want platitudes. He gave none of those things. He maintained his distance, staring at the same spot of nothing she herself had fixated upon. "We're here to help," he said. "But we need yours."

Lizbeth relaxed the pistol in her hand slightly, resigned to a reluctant trust. If she would last much longer, it wouldn't be alone—not now that the corpses were stirring. "It's the Thorian," she said.

"The Thorian?" Shepard pried.

"An indigenous species of flora," she explained. "It emits a kind of spore we've never encountered before. It exerts some kind of control over every species we've exposed to it."

A plant? Shepard wracked his brain trying to figure what Saren or the geth would want with extraterrestrial spruce. Was it a coincidence? "So where is this thing? One of the labs?"

The lab tech shook her head. "Beneath Zhu's Hope," she said.

"Right beneath the colonists?" Tali added. "Wouldn't they get infected?"

Lizbeth didn't answer, pushing an ident-card into the commander's hand. "This will get you through security doors," she said. "_They_ can't get through. You can use it to funnel them away from yourselves."

"This is how you survived?" The commander guessed, earning an affirmative nod. He pointed back toward the stairwell. "Downstairs in the vehicle bay," he said against his better judgment, tapping at his omni-tool. "Our rover is there. It's open. Hide."

Lizbeth fled without another word, quickly descending the tower now without the aid of her trump card. She would still be locked out from all controls and weapons, but the doors were open and she could have a better hiding spot until the team's business was done. Williams remained silent at her departure, offering no protest at granting a civilian access to the tank. She should have, Shepard thought. He saw the same vacant expression in her eyes as he'd seen in the girl's, staring down the corridor through which the geth's thralls fled. Once more he had trouble earning her attention. She responded poorly to snapping and shouting before, but now she didn't seem to hear them at all.

"Hey," Shepard said firmly, placing a hand on the chief's shoulder and eliciting a slight jump. "Are you okay?" he looked her in the eye. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Williams steeled herself, drawing her weapon back to readiness. "Let's just get this over with," she marched forward.

###

Kaidan would have been pacing had he the energy to spare. As it was, hobbling would have to do. He'd done what he could for the colony's fortifications. A cargo hauler, the _Borealis_, suffered a hard landing trying to escape the initial geth assault. Using the colony's crane and what little time they had, Kaidan managed to integrate the hauler's scuttled bulk and containers into their defensive walls. The colonists were cagey about his rearrangements, taking particular offense when he tried to relocate one of the pre-fab structures at the colony's core. He thought little of it.

"You should be resting," Liara interrupted the lieutenant's thoughts. She had been alternating between profuse apology and nanny since her barrier broke, both out of a sense of guilt she made no effort to conceal.

"I'm fine," he said. "The medi-gel does its job."

Garrus' voice rang through the lieutenant's helmet. "_Movement,_" he said. The detective had been sent to scout the geth's movements along the skyway. Kaidan had plenty of pride in the Alliance, but turians simply knew how to move quickly and quietly. "_Forty troopers, two armatures and counting. They'll be on us in fifteen minutes. I'll be back in five._"

"Keep your head down," Kaidan ordered the detective, turning back to the apologetic asari. "Think you're up for round two?" he asked.

"After what happened last time?" Liara said. "Thessian universities do not stress combat training."

The lieutenant stretched his arm painfully, but enough to prove the damage wasn't as bad as she thought. "You did a good job, doc," he said. "It took me ten years and a hell of a lot of aspirin to hold a barrier that long. It took you ten minutes and a few close calls." The lieutenant was far more personable than the commander, something that took her by surprise with all things considered. "You can do this," he assured.

"Does that mean you'll give me a gun?" she said, confidence bolstered slightly.

"Heh," Kaidan chortled. "You can have mine if I get domed."

He left quickly before receiving the reaction he rightly deserved. Laughing in the face of danger had consequences, so it was best not to stick around for them. The colony's resident practitioner had given him a healthy helping of painkillers, which had finally kicked in judging by his more stable stride. He walked quickly to the fortified walls of the colony, stationed with a mix of colonists and a few marines from the _Normandy_. Fai Dan and Arcelia were talking strategy at the base of the walls as the lieutenant approached.

"Jenkins!" The lieutenant shouted out to the marines stationed on the fortifications to no avail. "Jenkins!" he shouted louder, a head finally popping up and looking back. "Did you check your modulator?!"

"My what?" Jenkins yelled back with a tilted head, the marine at his side pulling him back down into cover by the shoulder.

Kaidan sighed disapprovingly. "Might want to check on that, buddy." He continued toward the colonial brain-trust, who had met his assistance with more than a little suspicion. "Sit-rep?" he asked briefly.

Arcelia was slow to report, looking first to Fai Dan for permission before reporting to an Alliance officer. "Our perimeter is solid, but your marines are only getting in the way."

"They're trained for this," Kaidan said. "Tell your people to follow their lead."

"With all due respect," Arcelia started, "_our people_ work better together."

Fai Dan interrupted. "What Ms. Martinez means to say is that we're a tight-knit community. We know each other and our home best."

"Being that as it may be, none of us are going to withstand another attack if we don't work together." Kaidan pointed toward the pre-fab at the center of the colony. "You've put a lot of your people over there, sacrificing our strength on the flanks. If we put that manpower on—"

"No," Fai Dan said curtly.

"And why not, exactly?"

The bureaucrat paused. "That building houses our communications facilities," he said. "It is our lifeline. Without it, our home dies." Kaidan expected the commander would have been more confrontational, but Fai Dan had a point. This was their home, not his. He let it go for the time being.

Rounding the corner to the front line, directly in the path of the skyway, Kaidan saw Wrex standing statuesque with his shotgun held low. "Wrex," the lieutenant greeted.

"Human," Wrex acknowledged.

"We're a few minutes out. Are you ready?"

Wrex scoffed. "I'm always ready," he bragged. "You take your time."

"I get it. You're the hardened killer," Kaidan said. "But our priority is keeping these people _alive_, no matter what happens."

Wrex stood tall above the man, looking down at the human standing in his shadow. "You're a brave man, giving me orders."

"The _commander_ gave you an order," the lieutenant corrected. "I expect you to follow it."

Wrex sized the man up, pointing toward his wound. "You aren't in the best position to enforce 'orders' for anyone."

"I'm still going to," Kaidan stood fast.

Wrex stared him down, his bloodshot red eyes locking onto the lieutenant's. "Ha!" he laughed loudly, causing the lieutenant to jump slightly. "You've got a quad, I'll give you that much," the krogan said. "Tell you what. You leave the geth to me and I'll leave the humans to you, _human_."

Kaidan shrugged. "Close enough," he said.

Garrus came sprinting into view from around a corner. If he was smart, he'd be thankful Wrex's attention had been on the lieutenant, else they would be down one turian. "I hope we're ready!" he said, leaping back behind the walls and taking the sniper rifle slung across his back.

"I thought you said fifteen minutes," Kaidan said impatiently.

"I was wrong," Garrus admitted.

###

The Mako team had wandered far too long, but they'd finally ascended to the upper floors parallel to the carrier. Occupational Health could be added to the list of organizations Lizbeth wanted to contact judging by the amount of rubble, roadblocks and debris that dotted this structurally unsound hell hole. They hadn't encountered any more of those creatures, and no geth had wandered into their path, but they had a few close calls. Williams' disquiet thankfully made it easy to convince her of the careful and quiet approach as opposed to her preferred guns-blazing approach. The mechanical footsteps of the geth had become much more numerous as they ascended, but the scurrying of desiccated feet remained on the lower floors.

Crossing cautiously through the administrative offices, the team was startled when an orange VI flickered to life from one of the desks. "Welcome back, Ms. Baynham," it greeted, voice warbling under the building's emergency generators' low output.

Feeling foolish realizing he was pointing his weapon at an incorporeal program, Shepard quizzically approached the VI. "Who?" he asked dumbly.

"Are you feeling well, Ms. Baynham?" the VI asked. "Employee health is our top priority. Our on-staff physicians can help with any ailments you may be suffering."

Shepard glanced down at the ID card hanging he'd clipped to his belt: LIZBETH BAYNHAM, LAB TECHNICIAN. "I'll be fine," he said. "Can you give me a status report?"

"Please specify," the VI parroted speech with artificially congenial inflection.

"How many people are in the building?" he specified.

"There are currently three undocumented tresspassers and one employee in the building," the VI answered. Of course it wouldn't be so easy getting answers out of a VI.

"What about synthetics?"

"There are currently thirty six undocumented synthetic assistants in the building," the VI said. "In compliance with Council regulations on advanced synthetic assistants, a full report has been drafted and awaits administrative approval."

Tali stepped forward, getting a permissive nod from the commander. "VI," she commanded it. "Describe the movements of the synthetic assistants and any areas in which they congregate." She talked to it as though it were a precocious, literal genie. If anyone knew how to talk to synthetics, it would be quarians—though not without running the risk of pissing the synthetics off.

The VI looked to the commander, awaiting approval. "Answer," he commanded.

"A guest inquiry has been logged under: LIZBETH BAYNHAM," the VI qualified. "The undocumented synthetic assistants have not congregated in any recognizable pattern. Internal surveillance has been partially obscured. Large amounts of foot-traffic have passed through Laboratory 51C: Species 37."

"Specify: Species 37," Shepard said with a mocking glance toward Tali.

"Access denied," the VI refused. "You are not cleared for that level of information. Your request has been logged."

Williams impatiently paced as Tali knelt down and ripped into the VI's processor, sending it into an incoherent fit. The chief was far less interested in the device. "Can we just take care of the ship and go?" she growled.

"You heard it," Shepard said. "The geth are interested in this thing. That means we are, too."

The VI flickered back to life, Tali giving a small celebratory gesture as she stood. "Got it!" she said, her smile obscured.

"Welcome back, TITLE-NAME," the VI glitched, its false inflections made apparent. "Warning: Security breach. Please contact the IT and security departments."

"Tell me about Species 37," Shepard ordered.

The VI's visual manifestation jerked and flashed before complying. "Species 37, colloquially named 'Thorian,' is a decentralized species of fauna indigenous to Planet Feros, located beneath the Zhu's Hope port colony. Its spores exhibit a unique capacity for long-distance communication and dissemination of information and directives. Potential military applications are being researched under grants from our partner corporations and Council authorities."

"What authorities?" Shepard asked.

"Agent Saren Arterius, a chief investor in the ExoGeni corporation, has personally directed study into Species 37."

"Is he here?" Shepard pressed.

"Agent Arterius acts through his executor, Matriarch Benezia. Her last visit and inspection was logged two weeks, three days and seventeen hours ago. A full report is available."

"Send it to me," Shepard ordered, satisfied as the VI complied and transmitted the report to his omni-tool.

"About damn time," Williams groaned. "Can we finish this thing now?"

Shepard nodded, proceeding to coax more immediately useful information from the VI terminal. The geth ship had lodged its main anchor into an upper-floor cargo bay, designed for aerial haulers to load and unload cargo too large or heavy for ground-floor service elevators as the VI happily explained. Though it wouldn't say so directly, the geth carrier was also sapping its power from the bay's transformer. Cut the room's power, Shepard figured, and cut the jamming signal. The only matter, so they thought, was getting there quietly.

It wasn't nearly that simple, however, as the team peered into the bay. Geth patrols were much more frequent as they made their approach, but their movements were repetitive and predictable. The team could see several armed platforms working in the room as they peeked inside from the door. To make matters worse, the geth hadn't simply plugged their ship into the nearest wall socket. A massive, reinforced metal tube ran from the ship's belly into and over the floor's power facilities, encompassing and heavily armoring transformers, generators and presumably the wall sockets from interference. Tendril-like cables and wires surrounded it, spreading across the room like a spider's web. If Tali was right, the tube was also the primary anchor for the entire ship, keeping it firmly attached to the building. Two birds, one stone.

"What is your plan?" Tali asked the commander.

Shepard looked to Williams with a smirk, who stood anxious to pull the trigger and get out. "_Our_ plan is to shoot the geth," he said. "What's _your_ plan?"

Tali cocked her head and wringed her hands together nervously. "For what?" she asked.

"The ship," he answered simply.

"I don't have a plan!" Tali insisted. "I already told you, I'm not a demolitionist."

"Oh my God," Williams sighed. "We have about five minutes until their sentries circle back. Just come up with a plan."

Ignoring the chief's frustration, Shepard looked Tali in what he assumed were her eyes. "Look at the room," he told her. "What can you do in there to cut that anchor?"

Tali looked inside, careful not to poke her head within view of the geth troopers. The anchor had been run through the bay's open bulkhead doors, which looked too thick for them to have blasted through without significant structural damage. At the other end of the room was a control station connected to hydraulic tubing and passed above by a maintenance catwalk spanning the entire bay. "Alright, I have an idea, but I'll need a distraction."

"Just give us the word," Shepard agreed.

"If you can get me across the room, I might be able to cut the anchor, but only if—"

Shepard interrupted with one hand forward and another in his ear, shushing her. "Don't jinx it!" he hissed.

"It might not even—"

"**Don't** jinx it!" Williams and Shepard scolded simultaneously. For fear of further reprisal, Tali slinked forward toward the less hostile killing machines, quietly clambering up the ladder and onto the catwalk as Shepard and Williams waited for a signal. The geth seemed blissfully unaware, standing motionless as if awaiting a command.

"Gonna' tell that girl to spin around three times, go outside and spit," Williams joked, getting an earnest chuckle out of the commander.

As Tali slowly crossed the catwalk, she realized the geth they'd seen weren't the only ones. There were at least eight that she could now see, 'resting' as it were in the alcoves and nooks around the room. A human might have signaled back with a count, but having six fingers sank that plan before it even left port. She surveyed the doors as she crossed their path. They might as well have been marked with a big "IMPENETRABLE" stenciled across the front face. Judging by the size of the hydraulics attached to either end, it carried a significant amount of force. Not enough on its own for Tali's purposes, but it only needed to work once. Perched as close as she could get to the control station—and directly above the dormant geth—Tali turned back to the commander and the chief, both watching intently. Pressed for time, they hadn't gone over an actual signal, so Tali simply waved her arms wildly and pointed three-fingered hands to the geth, hoping they could handle more than what they were aware of.

"Is that the signal?" Williams squinted.

"I think so," Shepard guessed. "Would you do the honors?"

"Gladly," Williams faked a courteous smile. She walked casually with the commander into the bay, weapons in hand, standing open but positioned close to cover. "Hey, assholes!" she shouted.

The geth craned their heads in unison toward Williams and Shepard, some a full 180 degrees. Their shining optics narrowed as the two drew their weapons and let loose a wall of fire, eviscerating the first two and sending a third to the ground missing a leg. They were less prepared for the five more that rounded the corner into view, weapons trained on them immediately. The two dove into cover at the sight of them, just in time. These geth weren't nearly as inaccurate as the ones they had encountered on Therum, firing with pinpoint precision that made the duo thankful for whatever strange alien metals that comprised the bulky geth technology they were hiding behind.

Tali leapt from the catwalk and behind the agitated geth, in the final stretch toward her goal. She bolted toward the end of the room, the geth's fire echoing loudly through the bay and her own team's shots zipping past her, uncomfortably close. She reached the control station and frantically tore the cover from the hydraulics panel. Either Shepard or Williams sent several poorly aimed shots into the station's interface, taking easy way off the table. Initially, she was going through the standard safety checks purely out of habit. The safety checks stopped at the second shot to ricochet past her head. She had worked with hydraulics plenty before, but ExoGeni hardly left their door specs lying around—unless they were in the panel she'd thrown halfway across the room, of course.

"Any time, now!" Shepard screamed as the geth slowly advanced toward them. Taking them down with concentrated fire shut the machines down quickly but the potshots, grazes, and single hits the duo were making from behind their cover did nothing to slow them down.

Tali didn't respond for fear of giving away her position. Rushed, she triggered the door's closing mechanism, sending it slowly crunching against the tube but doing little damage to either. The geth paused for a brief instant—an eternity for a machine—and looked toward the cranking door. Shepard and Williams resumed shouting and shooting with as many profanities as they could muster, drawing the geth's eyes their way once more. Tali scrambled through the system's gauges. Its failsafes kept the hydraulic pressure under reasonable levels and she needed unreasonable. It was a quick bypass to break the failsafes—the kind of bypass that involved a fistful of wires. Another attempt sent the door biting down hard into the tube, warping it severely and momentarily disrupting the ship's power flow. The geth paid closer attention this time, recognizing the threat that the quarian's interference had presented. They turned around and clamped eyes on her as she attempted to over-pressurize the system.

Shepard jumped out of cover, screaming and firing wildly. "Over here, you sons of bitches!" he roared impotently, sending the sixth geth tumbling onto the ground. The other two paid him no mind, ranking Tali as a greater priority as they took aim. "Do it now!" Shepard desperately yelled, sprinting for an angle on the seventh. "Do it god damn now!"

Tali released the mechanism, sending the door slamming down with enough force that it stirred up the dust down in the lobby. The anchor went limp, tearing itself in two while the geth ship tried and failed to compensate with its other claws and tendrils. The geth in the room halted their hostilities toward the quarian as the ship began to fall, reprioritizing their goals and turning back on the commander and chief. They did not last very long. The geth ship fell hard, taking chunks of the building with it down into the churning dust of Feros. One last series of electronic chirps resonated between the world's crumbling skyscrapers before the ship finally disappeared in a plume of ash and debris. As the building fell silent, the team waited for the other shoe to drop.

After a few moments without further developments, Shepard lowered his rifle and motioned for Tali to rejoin them. "Nice work," he said. "Could have been quicker on the draw, but it got the job done." Words of praise were a nice change of pace, even if they were qualified. With a sigh, the commander pointed toward the scattered geth equipment and consoles that littered the room. "Do your thing, see if you can find something."

"On it," Tali nodded, her heart still racing as she moved quickly to examine what remained of the geth's things.

As Tali tapped away, Williams peered out the bay's window toward the distant port. "They've gone quiet," she observed, noting no more gunfire or action from Zhu's Hope. "Either somebody won or the geth are coming back."

"Probably the latter," Tali added as she worked. "Networked intelligence. The more of them we kill, the less capable they become."

Shepard agreed. "With their ship gone, they're going to try to reorganize again." He tapped at his wrist and his omni-tool sprang to life. "Which means we should get the hell out of here, _soon_." According to the readouts, the geth's jamming signal had gone dark. "This is Shepard, does anybody read?" he said, willing to risk his signal being intercepted by the geth. "Lieutenant Alenko, do you copy?" he persisted as his radio gave only silence.

Williams stood at the commander's side, a silently mournful expression on her face. "Maybe the geth have another jammer somewhere," she guessed insincerely.

The radio sprang to life suddenly, garbled to hell and back but still audible. The voice of one of the ship's operators came though amid the muted sound of impacts against metal. "_Commander, this Normandy. Standby._"

The team waited through the static on the other end until Pressly's voice broke the silence. "_Commander, what is happening out there?_" he asked as an almost pointed accusation.

Shepard shot a look of confusion to the chief. "We took down the geth cruiser," he explained. "Why can't we reach Zhu's Hope?"

"_Because they've gone feral, sir,_" Pressly said. "_They've been clawing at the damn bulkheads since you left!_"

"Clarify," Shepard requested. "Why aren't they defending the colony?"

"_It isn't the whole colony, just some of the dockworkers. We haven't been able to reach anyone else and the workers won't respond to our orders. I don't know why they're so intent on getting into the ship._"

"What about their distress beacon?" Williams interjected. "Do we have backup on the way or what?"

"_There is no distress beacon._" Pressly said. "_We aren't picking up any transmissions from the colony. Sir, they're going to get aboard the ship eventually._"

Frustrated, Shepard kicked a piece of stone debris across the room. "Tell Joker I want you in the air until we sort this out. They are **not** getting aboard my ship. And keep trying to raise Lieutenant Alenko."

"_Wilco_," Pressly acknowledged. "_Normandy out._"

Williams shook her head, looking back to distant colony through the window. "What the hell is going on?" cursed. "Why are they trying to take the ship?"

"We aren't leaving until we find out," Shepard said, readying his weapon once more. "The kid said there was some kind of plant beneath the colony. My money's on that."

"A mind-controlling tree?" Williams scoffed in disbelief. "If that's the case, they won't exactly let us near."

"It's what the geth wanted," Tali returned to the group with a newly burned data-disc in her hand. "It was their sole target here."

"Found something useful, then?" Shepard glanced toward the disc.

Tali nodded excitedly. "Not just here," she said. "They had an active connection to their _entire_ network outside the Veil." Her voice practically trembled. "I got as much as I could—everything that seemed important. Objectives, telemetry, deployments…" her voice trailed off, looking down at the disc with an almost reverent eye.

"Their whole damn playbook," Williams grinned. "So I guess we go find our tree, then?" Just as she'd finished speaking, a deafening screech echoed up from the tower's lower levels, rudely interrupting their discussion. A moment of silence followed until similar screams began echoing together—dozens, at least. The scratching sound of claws and scampering feet could be heard, moving closer and closer through the complex. Williams' look of disquiet returned. There were more of them.

"Let's focus on leaving," Shepard briefly ordered. "Back to the Mako, double-time."

###

"Like I said," Wrex bore his sharp teeth, "they're afraid of _me_."

The defenders could see the plume of dust in the distance, the geth cruiser occluded somewhere far below. Shortly before the cruiser fell, the geth platforms had ceased offensive actions once more and quickly retreated back toward their headquarters. Lieutenant Alenko had been dug-in beside the rest of _Normandy's_ crew, whose assistance the colonists were still reluctant to accept. They even refused to integrate ranks, letting the marines take the front as the colonists secured the more inner sections of the colony. The battlefield before them was littered with twitching and sparking debris—what remained of the geth that hadn't retreated. Though they had a few close calls during the siege, they suffered no casualties.

"Do you think they will be back?" Liara looked to the lieutenant, letting down her barrier and leaning heaving against the top of the wall.

"I don't know," Kaidan shrugged. "We need to contact the commander either way." He turned back toward the colonists, whose weapons remained at the ready. "We're clear!" he shouted down to them from atop the fortifications. "Bring up comms!" Arcelia was giving a harsh look to Fai Dan. The colonists didn't respond, and they weren't moving. They darted one another looks, holding a silent debate comprised of glares and glances. They didn't lower their weapons as Fai Dan stepped forward.

"Tell your men to lay down their arms," the bureaucrat ordered strongly, the rest of the colonists training their weapons on the marines. "I promise you won't be harmed."

"What?" Kaidan shouted back, clutching his wounds as the rest of the _Normandy_ team slowly repositioned themselves along the walls.

"Your ship was destroyed during the assault," the bureaucrat lied. "You can't leave, but we can tend to your wounds if you lay down your weapons."

"They're up to something," Wrex said as quietly as a krogan could, gripping his shotgun tightly.

Garrus agreed. "Tali said the geth don't go after anything that doesn't impede them. Even if they did, there were no orbital strikes and their ground forces were focused _here_." He shook his head ruefully and scanned the crowd through his visor. "No way in hell they got to _Normandy_."

"They obviously mean to kill us," Wrex added. "There's nothing to discuss."

Kaidan shot a commanding glare toward the krogan. "We're here to help them, not kill them," he said. "You will hold your fire until I give the word. That's an order."

"We can provide for you here," Fai Dan continued, "but we cannot have a conflict of authority. I implore you: lay down your arms." Arcelia and the rest of her militia were far less welcoming than the bureaucrat's words implied as they slowly repositioned themselves, turning the fortifications into a glorified kill-zone. The crew didn't need to hear the words to know they were being corralled.

Kaidan turned toward the crew and the marines. "We're going to run," he said. "Same way the geth went." Several of the marines scoffed at the idea, but it only took a display of the lieutenant's bars to keep them in line. "Follow the same cover they did and keep your eyes open for any defensible positions."

Wrex laughed loudly. "_Toward_ the machines?" He looked back toward the battlefield before giving Kaidan a grin. "You've got a quad, human. Were it any other direction, we might have a problem."

Liara was less enthused. "You're still wounded," she argued. "Can you even run?"

"I've had worse," Kaidan assured her. "Just keep moving and stick to cover." He pointed toward the marines as they backed toward the fortifications, preparing for the leap. "I want you radio-silent until we're clear."

"Lieutenant!" Fai Dan beckoned. "I cannot guarantee your safety if my people see you as a threat!"

"We're leaving," Kaidan replied bluntly. "Do not follow us."

"We can't let you do that," Fai Dan refused. "If you just stay here, you'll start to understand." Kaidan signaled the _Normandy_'s compliment and they began jumping the walls and retreating back toward the former geth line. Fai Dan couldn't control the militia any further as they started advancing toward them. "I am warning you one last time, lieutenant!" the bureaucrat yelled. "This is _our_ home!"

"Go!" Kaidan ordered as he joined the rest of the crew and leapt from the barricades. They bolted for cover as the colonists opened fire with the same precision as the geth. While the colonists clambered back atop the fortifications, the crew used what time it had before their fire resumed to make a flat-out sprint away from Zhu's Hope. They followed the same calculated pattern of retreat they'd witnessed the geth using, sprinting out onto the skyway. The _Normandy_ came into view in the sky far above, zipping out into orbit and leaving the team stranded.


End file.
